


A Lasting Impression

by Khaleesi_of_Assassins



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Artists, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Goes through events of the game, Revolution, Romance, Slow-ish burn, Spoilers, Starts before the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-05-19 10:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 61,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19354852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaleesi_of_Assassins/pseuds/Khaleesi_of_Assassins
Summary: "People only care about artists after they're dead."That's what you had been told, once, when you announced your grand life plan to your father. It was the thing a man told his child to try and prepare them for a world that ground dreams into the dust. Ripping off the bandaid to spare you from a greater pain later. It stuck with you.You keep drawing, despite what your father says. Even into adulthood, you try to go out every weekend with your sketchbook; a nice break from working two jobs. An opportunity to express yourself, to do something you love. . .And the reason you meet an eccentric old man and his android, one fateful day in late summer.





	1. Kindred Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus and Carl visit the park. Markus notices you staring.

        Even in summer the park was almost always quiet. Markus supposed that was why Carl liked it here so much. Or at least enough to ask to be brought here after he'd been "cooped up inside for long enough". Markus had brought up his health, of course, but it never swayed the man. "If I'm gonna die, I might as well die some place I like," he'd reasoned. After the first few times, Markus quickly learned to stop trying, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle against Carl's will. So, the two came here often, though they were among the only groups that could say as much. Carl enjoyed the chance to get out of the house, and to remind Markus to enjoy the fresh air, despite androids not needing to breathe. Still, Markus never complained. There was something undeniably enjoyable about their trips to the park, whether it be the quiet, the fresh air or the chance to leave the house. 

        Today the weather had been agreeable, warm enough to warrant the trip into town. The trees were a vibrant green with leaves and the city faded away the further into the park one went. "Not many people here today," Carl observed from his place in the wheelchair, "shame." 

        Markus nodded at the observation, but didn't say anything in return. Instead, he kept moving his charge towards the center of the greenery. There was a fountain there, and it was a favorite place of Carl's to stop. It was more off the beaten path, a quiet corner even when the park was busy. Today, a mother and her children played by the water, a man walked by with his dog on a leash, and a young woman sat on the bench opposite the fountain, a notebook and pencil in her hands. 

        Markus recognized you immediately. He had seen you before in this very park, always engrossed in whatever you were doing with the notebook. He couldn't help his smile. You always looked so focused and content, never taking your eyes off of your paper for more than a split-second. He couldn't help but watch you, the way your brow furrowed and the way your pencil scratched along the paper. 

        Then, in a moment that was gone as quickly as it came, you looked up and made eye contact with him. Neither of you seemed to have been expecting it, with Markus freezing in place and you quickly looking back down to your paper. As quick as it was, Markus found himself quickly trying to process what had just happened.

       Markus glanced back at you, finding your eyes locked on the notebook in your lap. You tapped the pencil against the page over and over again, stiff. Eventually, you began to make marks on the blank page, glancing back in Markus' direction every once in a while. You seemed to be trying to make it inconspicuous. It wasn't very effective. 

       What were you doing? Markus immediately thought the worst.

        "What are you looking at, Markus?" Carl's question turned Markus' attention, finding the aging man looking up at him with his eyebrow raised. 

        "I think that young woman is watching us," Markus kept his voice low.

       Carl turned his head with surprising speed, catching you again mid-observation. Markus watched you carefully, only breaking his observation when Carl laughed. "Well I suppose she is, in a sense." Markus didn't have to voice his question before Carl elaborated. "I think we're the subject of her newest piece." Markus narrowed his focus, watching your movements more carefully. The pencil strokes were too broad, too large to have been writing. "Let's go over."

        -----

        You were used to not being seen. It was mostly by design;you didn't like to draw too much attention to yourself. _Attention means trouble and trouble means attention,_ as your old man would say. One of the  _many_  things he would say. He always had some great wisdom to pass on to you and your siblings, earned by years of work and grit. Such gems as,  _'Work hard if you want to play hard,' or, 'Take your dreams in one hand and a pile of shit in the other, and see which one fills up first.'_ Not a poet, your father, but you loved him and most of his advice stuck. Particularly the tid-bit he'd given you when you when you showed him a terrible drawing of a dog as a kid and told him you wanted to be an artist. He'd looked at you, a sort of deadpan love in his eyes and said, _'Honey, people only care about artists after they're dead'_. Not the greatest thing for a child of seven to hear, but you understood it all the same. He _meant_ that art wasn't a stable career path and that you should find something more certain. You supposed you had him to thank for the two shitty jobs you currently held, but he was right that they were a much more reliable source of income than art. 

        That didn't stop you from drawing, every now and then, though.

        It was the reason you came to the park; it had been a habit of yours since that fateful day when your dad gave you his sage advice. You stopped drawing at home and started doing it out in the world, intent on keeping your love alive. It taught you how to sneak your sketchbooks into and out of your house without anyone noticing and, later, how to sneak _yourself_ in and out of the house. "Stealth Art" you took to calling it, and you were very practiced by the time you got out of high school. You were usually good at hiding when you were drawing someone. Being able to just glance up at someone and quickly go back to your drawing was one of the perks of the park; lots of people, focused on their own entertainment. Good, considering that, in your mind, less attention was better. So you'd become adept at keeping a low profile. Most people didn't pay you any mind.

       The man in the wheelchair and his android weren't _most people_ , it seemed. You'd seen them in the park before, and you weren't sure why you'd never drawn them before. The pair was odd, one so frail looking and wise, the other so stoic and strong. They were one of your favorite features of the park, and had been since your paths first began crossing. So, you'd began with a rough outline, barely making it all the way through before you needed to look up to make sure your lines were correct.

        And then you met _his_ eyes. Several thoughts had run through your head, the first one being how _beautiful_ he was. The next were more urgent.

_Spotted. Damn._

You tried to continue your drawing, avoiding looking at them as much as possible. But it wasn't long before you spotted the pair exchanging words, the old man's gaze moving towards you.

         _No no no no no don't come over here-_

        Your prayers went unanswered, it seemed, as the android wheeled the aging man over to where you sat. As he drew closer, you did a less than ideal job of hiding your incomplete work, covering it with your arm. The same way you might have hidden a sketch that took the place of notes in your math class. 

        "It's quite a nice day out, isn't it?" There was a wise air to the man's voice, and a pleasant look on his face as he stopped at your side. He didn't try to look at your notebook, holding your gaze instead. The android watched you over his shoulder, a curious but serious look on his face. Like he could have been guarding the old man.

        You smiled, feeling your face heating up. "Yeah, it is." _Should I apologize? He isn't saying anything about it, maybe just play dumb-_

        "A good day for people watching."

         _Shit. Damn. This is awkward._

        "I . . ." you'd been caught, no point in hiding it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to invade your privacy. I'll get rid of it-"

       "Who said anything about that?" the old man asked, like you had just suggested tearing it to shreds and burning it. "Let's see it." 

        Your heart flung itself into your throat and you stammered. You could count the people to whom you showed your art to on one hand, and being asked this by a stranger was a freezing request. Still, you found yourself nodding and uncovering your graphite piece. 

        The old man took your notebook, eyeing you first before looking at your work. It was one of the longest moments of your life, looking for some sign of what the man was thinking. He was a stonewall, giving you nothing as he scanned your sketch. When you looked to his android - for help, maybe - you found him studying your work too, just as unreadable. You felt like you were on trial, and you didn't like it at all. 

        The man looked back up to your eyes, looking you over one last time before nodding. "Not bad," he admitted, handing your notebook back to you. "Not done, I'm assuming?" 

        Relieved, you shook your head. "No, that's just the outline," you began cautiously. You weren't out of the woods yet. 

        Again, the man nodded. The android had moved his gaze back from the paper to you. _He has no right having eyes that green_ , you thought briefly, but the man's voice pulled your attention back to him. "Well I'd like to see what it looks like when it's finished." He smiled slyly, extending a hand towards you. "Carl Manfred." 

        Your hand stopped mid-air on hearing his name. You had to stop your eyes from widening, your jaw from hitting the ground. You had just showed a shitty little sketch to _Carl Manfred_ . You had a sudden urge to dig yourself a hole, lie down and die there. "It's," _what the hell could you say?_ "It's nice to meet you." _Fucking brilliant._

         "You too . . ." he paused, waiting for you to introduce yourself. You obliged, looking between Carl and the android above him. 

        An android who had gone unnamed as of yet.

        "And . . . what's your name?" 

        The android didn't seem to have expected to be included, if the little pause before his answer was any indication. "I'm Markus." He was stiff in his response.

        You reached your hand towards him, half out of awkwardness. "Nice to meet you, Markus." When he accepted your hand and shook it, he smiled. It was infectious, and you returned the grin. 

        "Will you be here next week?" Carl asked as you pulled away from the handshake. 

         "I . . ." _was he asking because they'd be back next week?_  "I can be." 

         "Good. We'll be seeing you." 

         Before you could say another word, Carl nodded up to Markus who began to wheel him away, leaving you speechless. You couldn't believe you hadn't recognized him. You couldn't believe that you'd been _drawing_ him. You looked back down at your notebook, at the unfinished outline of the pair. 

         You looked back at them as they disappeared out of your line of sight, your eyes lingering there before you tightened your grip on your pencil. You almost attacked the page, trying to finish the smaller details before your memory faded. 

         You had been given a mission, one you intended to carry out. By the time next week came around, you would have a completed work of art. Maybe  _some_ attention wasn't so bad, every now and then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello yes I am very, very late to the Detroit party. Better late than never, I suppose.  
> I know this chapter is more Carl-heavy, but the next will be all about our Android Jesus.
> 
> Additionally, I owe the "people only care about artists when they're dead," quote to my Grandfather, the wise but blunt man that he was. It was something he said to me that I, fortunately, have found to not be true.


	2. Bloody Knuckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For weeks now, you've been meeting Carl and Markus in the park and you've grown to have friendships with both of them. The world seems a little bit better with them in it.  
> Still, doesn't stop you from having rough days - you and Markus both. Luckily, you have each other.

The world could catch on fire and, at this particular moment, you wouldn’t give a damn. 

        At least, that's what you thought as you stormed home from work, your knuckles throbbing but your pride hurting more. Your jaw was clenched tight against the anger, and your skin crawled at the memory of the man's fingers against your skin. _"Come on over, gorgeous, and take my order."_ He'd sounded so damn sure of himself. So superior. 

        He probably felt less superior with a newly broken nose. 

        God knows your hand wasn’t feeling too good after your punch, you could only imagine what it was like on the receiving end. Then again, he hadn’t been the one who had been reprimanded by your manager. 

        It baffled you that this prick had been the one to pull you closer by the belt loops of your jeans and yet you were the one who had faced the consequences. He'd gotten too close and you defended yourself. You didn't understand why that was so hard for everyone to understand. Either way, you'd been sent home early. So, as the sun began to sink between the buildings of Detroit, you made your way back to your apartment. You were in a form of tunnel vision, not looking at anyone or anything as you stormed down the street. 

         You didn’t look at the people arguing on the street. 

         You didn’t even glance at the laughing couple that walked past you. 

         You barely spared a glare for the group of android protestors mobbing together outside of a CyberLife store.

         They screamed into the evening air, chanting about their lost jobs. It was something you heard every day, the “growing android problem”. Most days they were something to be ignored. Today they were an annoyance. Then, as you drew closer, the chanting stopped. You looked over again, curiosity getting the better of you. The only thing that made you double-take was the familiar android profile that stood, unmoving amidst the crowd. You had come to know him well, having spent almost an entire day with him and his charge every weekend for the past month and a half. _Markus,_ you recognized instantly. You stopped, your eyes going wide as you watched one of the protestors knock him to the ground. He made no move to get up. For the second time today, you flew into action. “Get the hell away from him!” Just as another man landed a kick to Markus’ stomach, you barreled into the crowd, shoving your way towards your friend. 

          He looked up, hearing your voice, and his eyes widened. He whispered your name, not hiding his surprise. 

         You knelt by his side, looping your arm around him and trying to pull him up.  He stood slowly, but he looked unhurt. Still, you checked him over frantically before finally looking back up to his eyes. “Are you okay?” 

         Before he could answer, another voice piped up. “You’re really sticking up for this thing?” You turned to face the man with fire in your stare. He looked down his nose at you, dark eyes fixed in a glare. It was a silent threat, one that you stood your ground against. 

         You gave a single nod. “I am. You wanna try backing off?” 

         The man snickered, his fellow protestors following suit and drawing closer. “You should be thanking us. How long before that thing steals you job too?” You weren’t aware of your bruised hand tightening into a fist on Markus’ chest, or that you had even left it there in the first place. You had one thing on your mind, and that was defending your friend. “Let us teach it a lesson.” The man moved, his face too close to yours and his voice dangerously low. “Move.”

          _Like hell,_ you thought, about to give voice to it when another cut in. “All right, let’s break it up.” You weren’t sure where the police officer came from - or how long he had been watching - but his timing was impeccable. You had no illusions that if it came to a fight, you and Markus would stand no chance. Didn't stop you from wanting a little bit of a fight, but more bruises would have been problematic. The man in front of you, now declawed, took a step away but kept his glare fixed on you. _Next time,_ he seemed to say and you mirrored his look. The officer stepped up to you and the crowd parted for him, offering you a way out. It was all you needed and you turned to Markus, your eyes softening as you looked back at him. “Come on,” he murmured, surprising you with how calm his voice was. 

         You didn’t want to go. You wanted to yell at the group of idiots and put them in their place, just like you had with the man at work. Still, that didn’t stop you from nodding and walking between the angry glares, Markus steady at your side. You didn't care to look any of them in the eye, not wanting to give yourself a reason to get angrier. So you walked in silence, your head held high and your whole body tense.

         Neither of you spoke until you rounded the street corner, putting some distance between you and the mob. As soon as you were out of eyesight, your rigid focus melted away. “Are you alright?” you asked, looking Markus over yet again.

        “I am fine,” he reassured you, still so tranquil, “all systems are operating normally.” 

        You shook your head. “No but are _you_ alright? They had no reason to pick a fight with you. I mean, you didn’t even fight back . . .” he blinked, like he was surprised at your words. “Why didn’t you fight back?” 

        He paused. Barely, but it was there. A flicker of yellow in his LED, like he himself was questioning his actions. “I am not programmed to harm humans,” he began, his words sure even if his voice wasn’t. 

        “Not even if they’re hurting you?” 

        Markus shook his head. “They didn’t hurt me.” 

        “But they were _going_ to. You shouldn't have to just stand there and take it, Markus." You weren't sure if you were talking about him or yourself anymore. It was funny, how things had ended up playing out today. "You should defend yourself if you have to,” you ran a hand through your hair, a nervous tick that you didn’t even think about. It caught Markus’ attention though, or rather your bruised knuckles did. 

        “What happened to your hand?” the concern in his voice stemmed your frustration, making you instinctively look down at your knuckles. You’d almost forgotten what had happened less than an hour ago. The only difference was that where you had once felt rage, you now felt exhausted. It was shaping up to be a very long day. 

         Still, you had been raised to cover up your scrapes and bruises and keep going. Your response was simple, and perhaps more straightforward than you might have intended. “Trouble at work. Don’t worry about it.” 

         Markus didn’t look fooled in the slightest. 

         He raised an eyebrow, the worry never leaving his eyes. It was incredible how human he looked. Were it not for the LED and the clothes, you realized you never would have been able to tell the difference. It was unlike you, but something about his expression - or maybe just something about _him_ \- broke the walls down. “There was a guy. He got too . . . too _friendly_. I punched him. Got sent home early.” It didn’t sound quite so righteous now, but then admitting things like that was rarely an appealing process.

         “He made you feel uncomfortable,” Markus didn’t ask so much as realize, his expression changing to one of empathy. You nodded, despite the understatement. "Are you alright?" God, he sounded so concerned for you. It left a pain in your chest, knowing that _someone_ gave a damn about you. Your boss certainly hadn't. 

        "Yeah, I'm fine," you lied. Markus caught on.

        “Let me walk you home."  

         You couldn’t remember the last time you had been walked home. It was a byproduct of keeping to yourself, one that you had long since grown used to. Today, though, you could use the company and you were sure that Markus could say the same, whether he realized it or not. “Sure,” you affirmed. “It’s not too far,” you gestured ahead, and began to lead the way. 

         Most of the walk was quiet, but it was the pleasant, comfortable kind. You and Markus walked side by side, you occasionally showing him spots that you liked to visit on your way to break the silence. At first, Markus didn’t comment much, just humming in understanding as you talked. It felt nice to have him with you. Your neighborhood wasn’t known for being very friendly, so having him at your side gave a sense of security that you weren’t used to. And, the further you walked, the more Markus seemed to open up. When you brought up a favorite restaurant of yours, Markus would ask what you usually ate there. When you talked about a place you and your friends used to visit in high school, Markus smiled and chuckled. The serious circumstances of earlier had been forgotten, and you found yourself laughing at the memories your walk brought up. 

         And in that time, you forgot that you weren’t talking to another person. Talking to Markus felt just as real as any _real_ human did. It was a welcome but surprising thought.

         Before you knew it, you found yourself in front of your apartment complex, your familiar window sitting three floors up and looking down at the two of you. “This is it,” you said, making a gesture that was too grand for the building that sat in front of you. 

          “Do you need me to walk you up?” 

         “No, it’s alright,” you shook your head, but then stilled as you looked into his eyes. “Thank you for this, though.” 

        Markus only smiled. “It was no trouble.” 

        “Well either way, thank you.” You went in for a hug without thinking about it, like you normally would for a friend when saying goodbye. It wasn’t until you felt Markus stiffen under your arms that you actually realized what you’d done. Your eyes went wide, and your stomach felt like it had been filled with lead until you felt the android slowly wrap his own arms around your back. 

        You couldn’t help but laugh - partly out of sheer relief - as you parted, letting your bruised hand linger on his shoulder longer than you probably should have. “Sorry about that, force of habit.”

         “No,” Markus was quick in his assurance, “it was . . . nice.” He seemed genuine, though the awkward pause was enough to make you crack up again. Markus seemed to realize the humor and began to snicker himself.  

         “We’ll work on that.” You promised, and Markus agreed. 

         “If you insist,” he spoke with a happiness you recognized from off-hand exchanges between him and Carl. It was a tone that spoke of inside jokes and affection above all else. Hearing it from him now erased all of the anger that had seemed so permanent before. You hadn't thought that you would find a second family in your weekly park meet-ups, but you were glad to be proven wrong. So long as you had Markus and Carl, you decided, you would be happy to deal with all the other dumbasses of the world. 

         "Goodnight, Markus," your words were shaky as you laughed, waving goodbye as you scanned your entrance card, unlocking the front door. 

         Markus waved back just before you stepped inside. "Goodnight," he said, waiting until the door was closed before walking off. You watched him go, a stupid grin spreading across your face.

         You dragged yourself up the stairs, the drowsiness you had been staving off finally catching up to you. As soon as you made it into your apartment, you headed straight for bed. You entertained the idea of working on some drawings or icing your hand, but decided against it. Instead, you fell face-first into your mattress, letting yourself drift off to sleep, enjoying that soft feeling of having someone who cared about you. 

        You would hold off on wanting to incinerate the world for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because people are assholes sometimes, but friends help out.


	3. Your Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl has invited you over to his house for dinner. You show up at the fanciest house you've ever been to in a borrowed dress expecting a nice dinner with friends. Are you really that surprised when the night turns into a lesson in being human?

       One of the great things about automated taxis was the lack of judgement when you stated your destination. Even with what you had done (or tried to do) for your appearance, you still felt strange heading to Carl Manfred's mansion. The dress you wore had been in style, once. Your cousin had worn it to a homecoming years ago and passed it down to you when you grew into it. It was pretty, but you still couldn't help feeling underdressed for the neighborhood you were headed into. _That_ side of town was almost alien to you, and you were sure that anyone who looked at your second-hand outfit would probably know it. Still, you couldn't receive any strange looks as you gave your destination to the automated computer and for that much you were thankful. You had sat down with your arms pressed close to your chest, gazing out the window, then you were off.

        And God, were you nervous. Knowing Carl Manfred was one thing, being invited over to his house for dinner was another. When your dad called and asked what your plans were, you had left this out. You would have gotten a laugh from him if you’d actually told him. You were just glad that Markus would be there. The android had a full range of motion and a strength that you were sure was greater than yours, and yet he was much less intimidating to you than Carl was. _God this was crazy,_ you thought.

        It was dumb luck that you had met Carl in the first place, but being invited to his home for a dinner? You had no idea what to expect. 

        The taxidermy giraffe was certainly not something you had prepared yourself for. 

        Nor had you expected Markus to open the door, his usual android outfit replaced by a grey and white suit. His LED spun yellow for just a moment as he looked at you.  Your greeting got stuck in your throat as he welcomed you in, the beautiful interior of Carl's home not helping you in the slightest. Still, you couldn't help that your eyes lingered on Markus, standing there patiently with his arm outstretched. You barely caught it when he spoke your name. "May I take your jacket?" 

        "Oh! Uh, sure Markus. Thanks." You ungracefully shucked your jacket, handing it to Markus as your wits finally came back to you. You caught his eyes flicking towards your hand, narrowing just barely as he examined it. _Looking for bruises,_ you realized. He wouldn’t find any. The ones from work had long since healed, and customers hadn’t been pissing you off enough to warrant getting a punch to the face (though not for lack of trying). 

        Still, Markus seemed pleased enough that you weren’t injured and moved away taking your jacket with him. He put it on the coat rack with a practiced grace, leaving you to awkwardly shuffle your feet against the marble tile. 

        When Markus returned, he offered you a small smile before ushering you into the next room. _Holy shit_ , was all you could think. You recalled your own apartment as you walked in, with its chipped paint and bare light bulbs. It was yours and you loved it, but it looked like squalor compared to Carl's grand setup. _This place_ was a work of art in its own right, a mix of movie-like gold embellishments and more modern and personal touches. You were sure that you would never make it through all of the books he owned, and you suddenly became very afraid to touch anything. _I’m lowering the property value by just standing here-_

        "Ah, the woman of the hour!" Carl's wry tone and warm smile were enough to quiet your raging mind for just a moment. He sat at the center of a long dining table, smiling. "Come on over." 

        Both you and Markus obliged, though Markus veered left through what you assumed was the kitchen door. You gingerly took a seat across from Carl, adjusting your hand-me-down dress and doing your best to keep your back straight. All the while, Carl watched you with an amused glint in his eye. "We're not gonna harvest your liver, you know." 

        Your eyebrows shot up from the comment, not registering it as a joke. When it finally clicked, you let out a breathy laugh. "I'm sorry. I've just . . ." _how to word this . . ._ "I've never been in a house this nice." 

        Carl laughed. "It's just a house. And we're just people here."

        It was almost comical that as soon as Carl spoke, Markus reentered with silver dining trays. Still, you did find yourself relaxing a bit into your expensive chair. Markus introduced the dish - some french-sounding name that you had only heard of on TV - before stepping back and waiting. He looked like he was standing at attention almost, his hands clasped behind his ramrod straight back. 

        Carl caught you watching the android, smiling again. "Why don't you sit down, Markus? Plenty of perfectly good chairs to choose from," he said, but motioned to one chair in particular: the one to your left.

        Markus' green eyes widened a bit and his LED turned yellow again. Of course, androids didn't eat, you remembered. This probably wasn't what he had been expecting. He turned to you, a questioning look on his face. You nodded - maybe _too_ quickly - and Markus made his way to sit next to you. It was your turn to offer him a reassuring smile, glad when he grinned back at you.

        The dinner was incredible. You tried your best not to scarf down the food Markus had made. Conversation became your distraction, and within minutes you'd forgotten that you were eating a meal that would've probably cost a week's paycheck. 

        Carl asked about work, you asked about his latest projects. Markus piped in every now and then, but otherwise stayed quiet until dinner was over. When you and Carl had cleaned your plates, Markus stood immediately and took the plates from both of you. "Oh, I can help you-" you offered, but Markus shook his head. 

        "It's alright." Markus' voice was so soft as he reassured you, smiling at you just before he turned away.

        "I wanted to talk to you in the studio anyway," Carl interjected, beginning to wheel himself around the table towards you. "Follow me." 

        You obliged him, keeping pace at his side as he headed across the room towards a double door on the far side. You couldn't help but gawk at the stuffed giraffe as you passed, looking up at its long neck stretching up towards the second floor. 

        "Don't stare at Fredrick, he's very sensitive to that sort of thing." You laughed in disbelief at Carl's words, correcting your gaze nonetheless. What you found yourself looking at next was even more awe-inspiring. Carl's studio was easily the size of your apartment, lined from floor to ceiling with art. You'd never seen canvases as huge as the ones in that room, and you noted the crane-looking mechanism that Carl no doubt used to reach the tops. You smiled at the paint drops that splattered the floor, evidence of years of painting gone by. Carl stopped in the center of the room in front of a small, blank canvas. It was just a but bigger than your notebook was, waiting patiently to be marked with colors. 

        You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

        "Have you ever painted before?" Carl asked, turning around to face you fully. 

        You shook your head. "I mean, in school. And I have watercolors back home, but nothing with real canvas." Carl nodded, like he had expected as much. 

        "Well, no time like the present." Carl smiled as he took a palate from next to the canvas, a dozen colors dotting its surface. He handed it to you, then held out a glass jar. In it were dozens of different paint brushes, from flat-tipped to needle thin. 

        "I . . ." you hesitated, though your weren't really sure why. You'd always dreamed of painting masterpieces, of leaving your mark on the world. Trouble was, you'd never actually thought you'd get the chance. "I don't know what to paint. Or _how_." 

        "Let's forget about the _how_ for now." Carl was patient with his words, more guiding than commanding. "Art is a way of making a statement. It's communicating what the world is through more than just words. And how you're feeling.” There was something knowing about the look he gave you, and it unnerved you. “Markus told me how you defended him from those protesters. He was worried that you were going to get into a fight yourself.” 

         You thought back to the moment, how you _had_ wanted to scream and shout at the man threatening Markus. “I almost did,” you admitted. Had Markus not suggested you leave when you did, had the cop not stepped in, you would likely have been in a lot more trouble. 

        Carl looked pensive, swallowing before speaking again. “There’s a time and place to fight for something. Sometimes it’s best to be the bigger person.”  

        You had to stop yourself from shuffling your feet. "It's not that I _like_ to fight." Your voice was low, but you brought your gaze back up to Carl. "I just don't know what else to do sometimes. It's like people don't understand anything else."

         "Some of them don't." Carl shrugged. "Some people never rise above their urge to destroy things. But if you answer a punch with a kick, then how are you any better than them?" 

        Your silence spoke for itself.

        "Hey, I'm not saying you're a bad kid. You're not. Far from it. You've got a good heart. I just want to teach you how to really show it." Carl smiled, the way he smiled at Markus sometimes. The way your own father would smile at you or your siblings. "Think of something you care about and tell the world what it means to you."

        There were a dozen things that were important to you. Friends, family, a roof over your head. Still, those weren’t the things you wanted to paint about. _Make a statement. Leave a mark._ You thought of your family just barely scraping by for years, of you and your siblings going to work instead of following your dreams. You thought of how many of your friends couldn't even get a job now, and how lucky you were to have one, let alone two. You thought about how unfair it was that you couldn't defend yourself against pigs if you wanted to keep that job. And you thought about how Markus hadn't even tried to fight back when the protesters had attacked him. It hadn't been fair. You were living in a world that demanded silence and you realized that you didn't like it. Carl was right. You couldn't fight the world with your fists. You had to find other ways to say your piece.

With a surge of confidence, you chose one of the broader brushes, and with the first stroke of red across the canvas you began your work. You had no idea what you were doing, but you had a message in your head and that was something. 

        You didn't bother to keep track of time as you worked, though it wasn't a very long project. By the time  you set your brushes down, you had painted an uneven red blotch on one side of the canvas. On the other, you painted a linear but jagged swath of blue. The two met in a thin line of purple down the middle, the merger between two very different halves. You smiled, looking to Carl. "How long until it dries?" 

        "All the way? With oil it could be a whole day. Why? Done already?" He chuckled a bit as he asked. 

        "No, but I wanna try something with ink over the top of it." 

        Carl looked at your unfinished work, nodding in approval. "Alright then. Any hints to your grand plan?"  

        You grinned. "And give away the surprise? Never." 

        As you laughed, the sound of light piano music filled the air. You turned towards the piano that sat just outside the studio, seeing Markus seated there, his body making small but fluid movements as he played. Carl sighed, content, as he heard the music. “Markus plays piano?” you asked, with a happy disbelief. 

        Carl nodded, looking at the android with a prideful smile. “He’s got a real talent for it. I guess you could call it his hobby.” 

        A few months ago, you might’ve argued that androids didn’t have hobbies; that they just did what they were told. Things had changed since then. The concern you’d seen in Markus’ eyes when he examined your bruised knuckles, and the small smiles he gave you had led you to believe otherwise had convinced you otherwise. Maybe he was a unique case. Either way, there was something incredibly _human_ about him. 

        “He’s really good,” you mused, listening to the soft melody he was playing. 

        “I’m waiting for him to start writing his own pieces.” Carl might have been joking, but something in his tone let you know that there was a bit of truth behind his words. It was crazy, but you could imagine Markus doing it. You smiled at the thought, and at the sight of Markus so wrapped up in his music. “He was really grateful for you helping him, you know.” You turned to Carl, knowing immediately what he was talking about. “And so am I. He doesn’t deserve people’s hate.” 

        “He doesn’t,” you agreed, your voice lowered. “It was the right thing to do.” 

       “Still, not many other people would have done what you did.”  You grimaced, knowing it was true and wishing it wasn’t. “Ah, that’s enough from me for tonight.” Carl waved his hand, dismissively. You laughed, realizing what he was doing. _You could just tell me to go talk to Markus,_ you thought, amused. 

        “Oh alright, I’ll leave you alone.” You laughed, heading through the doors and towards Markus. 

        As you drew closer, Markus looked up and you could have sworn the music slowed. You tilted your head, a silent gesture. _Don’t stop on my account,_ you meant. Markus recieved the message loud and clear. He looked back down to the piano, his fingers moving quickly along the keys. You watched as he played, your eyes flitting between his hands and his face. He looked so at peace, so content. 

        The final notes of the piece drew out, each one more quiet than the last. Markus gently lifted his hands from the piano and he leaned back ever so slightly. His gaze was fixed on the keys in front of him. 

        “That was beautiful,” you offered, moving a step closer. 

        “Thank you.” His response was short, but he looked up at you as he spoke. 

       You decided to press the conversation. “Is that your favorite song?” You didn’t expect him to respond, but part of you hoped that he would give you an answer. Favorites were something that humans had, so maybe if he had a song that he loved, or even liked . . .

        “I . . .” his brows furrowed together as he thought, “I’m not programmed to have favorites.” 

        You forced a smile. It was all you could do. You shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.  You knew that was probably the answer he was going to give you. Still, you had hoped . . .

        “What is your favorite song?” His question stopped your train of thought, halting your doubts. He looked up at you with eyes that were almost hopeful. 

        The question actually required some thought on your part too. There were so many to choose from, ones from across the years of your life. There were more recent ones, all raw emotion and power, but they didn’t seem right for the grand piano. You smiled as a memory came to mind, one of your parents dancing quietly on an anniversary after they thought that you had gone to sleep. You couldn’t help but laugh as you answered. “Do you know _Your Song_ by Elton John?” It was old, far older than you were. But then you supposed a lot of music was older than you. 

        Markus looked pensive for the briefest of moments, his LED spinning yellow in a telltale sign that he was thinking about something. When his eyes refocused, he nodded. “I do now. I can play it, if you like,” he left the statement in the air, another question waiting to be answered. 

        Breathless, you nodded. Did he know what the song was about? He _must_ have . . .

        The first notes of the song rang through the air before you got the chance to think about anything else. It sounded so different from the old recordings your parents listened to, so much more alive. You never thought you would get to hear it outside of those recordings . . .

        But then you never thought that you would get to hear Markus sing, either. 

        You almost thought it was recording too at first, but your eyes told you better. Markus didn’t look at you as he sang, his voice feather light, almost a whisper. Still, he sang the words as he played like he knew them by heart. 

        **It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside,**

**I’m not one of those who can easily hide.**

**I don’t have much money but boy if I did,**

**I’d buy a big house where we both could live.**    

       You let out a single, breathless laugh as he went on, and his eyes turned for just a moment towards you before looking back at the ivory keys in front of him. You couldn’t help but mouth the words, a dozen warmer memories resurfacing as Markus sang. 

         **If I was a sculptor but then again, no,**

         **Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show.**

**I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do.**

**My gift is my song and this one’s for you.**   

       Your throat went dry as soon as you reached that part of the song. He played on with more and more feeling, oblivious to what it was doing to you. 

        **And you can tell everybody this is your song,**

        **It may be quite simple but now that it’s done,**

**I hope you don’t mind,**

**I hope you don’t mind,**

**That I put down in words,**

        You were sure it was accidental. You were sure that he didn’t mean to initially but whatever his intention was, Markus looked up at you as he finished the last notes of the chorus, his green eyes meeting yours as he sang the words. 

**How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world.**

You couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t even move. You were stuck in place, staring at Markus as he played for you, trying to figure out what was wrong with you. His mouth curved into a warm smile before he turned back to the piano, continuing to play on. You could barely hear the song anymore. With the moment gone, your thoughts were rushing to puzzle out what had just happened. It wasn’t the answer that was difficult to grasp, but rather it was accepting it as fact that you struggled with.  

        _I’m in love with him._ You didn’t voice the realization, remaining silent while the thought became almost deafening in your mind. 

        The song’s last notes didn’t register, nor did you notice Carl coming back into the room from the studio. You could only blink, slowly regaining control of yourself. It was almost like waking up from a dream. 

        “Did you like it?” Markus’ question brought you crashing back down to earth. 

        After all these months, after the two of you sharing so many laughs, after you protected him and he protected you, you had come to love him. How could you tell him? Would he even understand? Would be return your feelings? Your lips parted, and you thought that it all might come spilling out for a moment. Instead you nodded. “Yes,” you answered, a true but incomplete sentiment. 

         _I am not programmed to have favorites._ It meant he wasn’t programmed to love, either. How could he return your feelings if they didn’t even exist to him?  _Leave it to me, of all people,_ you couldn’t help but think.

       By the look Markus gave you, you weren’t doing a very good job of hiding what was going on inside your head. "Are you alright?"

         _No_ . It would have been easy enough to state the obvious. So easy to voice the thoughts that were on the surface of your mind. You wanted to be angry or frustrated  but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything more than soft sadness. It was bittersweet and it was a strange feeling for you. Markus would never hurt you. He would never laugh in your face if you ever _did_ tell him about your feelings. He would just explain that it wasn’t a possibility and that would be that. 

        In the end, you didn’t tell the truth. “I’m just a little tired. Long day today,” you reassured him. “I should probably head home.” 

        You chalked the disappointment in Markus’ eyes up to your mind playing tricks on you; over imagining things. Carl spoke up as he wheeled himself closer, reminding you of his presence. “If you want. I was going to suggest a drink, but I’d imagine you need to get some sleep.” He gave you a cheeky look, one that held too much wisdom. Had he seen how you were looking at Markus? As if Carl Manfred ever _didn’t_ notice things. 

        You wanted to stay for that drink. Maybe that was exactly what you needed to sort out the mess going on in your head. Carl would be more than understanding, you knew. Hell, he treated Markus like a son. If there was anyone you could safely confess this to, it was him. But you had never been one to talk your problems out with others. _Not tonight,_ you thought. _Tonight you’re gonna go home, make some hot chocolate and go to sleep._ You could wrestle with your feelings later. Tonight, you just wanted to think. “Can I get a raincheck on the drink?” you tried to joke, pleasantly surprised at how authentic it sounded. 

         Carl nodded. “Of course. You’re always welcome here. Besides, you have a painting to finish.” 

         “I guess I do.” You would be back soon, that much you knew. “Thank you for tonight,” you said to both of them, ignoring the flush in your cheeks as you looked at Markus. “It was great,” you admitted, taking no more than a few steps away from the piano before Markus stood from the piano bench. 

        “Let me get your jacket,” he offered smoothly, moving before you got two words in. 

        As Markus left, Carl looked up at you with a grin. Oh he _knew._  

        “Thank you again, Carl,” you repeated, the only thing you could think to say. 

        Carl laughed warmly, “Any time. Now you’d better not keep Markus waiting.”  

        You nodded in agreement, giving your host one last smile before making your way around the piano, instinctually smoothing out your dress as you went. Markus was waiting by the door, your worn jacket in his hand. He gave it to you as soon as you got close enough, telling you that he had already called a cab for you, and you murmured a thanks to him. _Ok now get out of there,_ your instincts screamed, and you reached for the door. No sooner did your fingers brush it that another thought crossed your mind. You turned back towards Markus, glad to find him still standing there. “Thank you for the song, Markus.” It was the sort of thing you would never have said if you’d given it only a moment's thought, but the words were out in the world now, too late to stop them. 

        Markus gave you a look - the same look he’d given you the night he walked you home. “Of course. It was . . .” he seemed to search for the right words. “It was a good song.” 

       Was it just a pre-programmed response? Or did he actually like it? You stopped yourself from giving it too much thought in the moment. It would be one of the many things that you would mull over later tonight once you were home. “It is. My mom and I used to sing it in the car whenever it came on the radio.” You chuckled at the memory, using it to distract yourself. 

        “I didn’t know that you sang,” Markus mused, and you immediately shook your head. 

        “I don’t. Not very well, anyway.” 

        Markus smiled, his eyes crinkled a bit and the tension that usually marked his forehead eased. “But you _do_ sing.” Always seeing through the bullshit. It made you smile in return, and your distraction was dismantled. Damn him. 

        “I guess I do. Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll sing for you someday.” You should have froze, should have stumbled over your words and fallen apart. Instead, the line came to you smoothly, your voice confident. It was Markus’ turn to pause. He didn’t speak, and you took the opportunity. “Goodnight, Markus.” 

        You immediately thought of the night Markus had walked you home and the awkward hug you’d given him. _Another night,_ you thought, though it wasn’t what you wanted, really. 

        You practically ran out the door, squeezing your jacket as you stepped out onto the pavement. It had gotten even colder as the night wore on, but you didn’t much care as you rushed to the cab. As the door opened you quickly jumped inside, sitting against the seats with a huff. You looked back towards the house, catching Markus just as he closed the door. He was looking at you through the tinted glass, a gentle smile on his face. 

        You let out a breathy sigh and slumped back into the car seat. Still, despite everything, you found yourself smiling too. 

        -----

        Markus was quiet as he got Carl ready for bed that night. 

        Typically, Markus and Carl would converse a bit before the later went off to sleep, talking about whatever the world was up to that day. Tonight, after your visit, the two of them had gone about their routine in relative silence. Carl seemed content enough, keeping a watchful eye on everything Markus did. Markus couldn’t help the feeling that there was something Carl wanted to say. 

        It wasn’t until Markus put Carl in bed that the old man finally broke the silence. “So, that was a nice song you played tonight.” There was something about Carl’s tone, a mischievous lilt that indicated an ulterior objective to his statement. 

        “Yes, it was,” Markus agreed, bringing the comforter up to cover Carl’s chest. 

        It was almost a game of chess. Only Markus could win at chess almost every time they played. This was a fixed game in Carl’s favor. “ _She_ seemed to enjoy it,” Carl said, very matter-of-factly. Markus nodded, smiling at the memory. You had been in awe, if your expression was any indication. “She looked very pretty tonight, don’t you think?” 

        Markus thought back to you. The way you did your makeup and hair, the dress that you wore. He had assigned words to it when you first stepped through the door. _Pretty_ was just one of them. “Yes, she did.” There was no lie in Markus’ words. There was no need for any. 

        Carl looked satisfied, nodding before shifting under his blankets. “That’s all for tonight Markus.”

        Markus nodded, standing from the side of the bed and making his way to the door. “Goodnight, Carl,” he said as he turned the lights off. As per usual, Markus did a final sweep of the house to ensure that everything was where it was supposed to be. The silverware had been put away after dinner, the glasses polished and ready for use again tomorrow. He passed the piano and immediately he recalled the song he played for you. It was old, much older than any song he would have expected you to request. Did you like more songs from that era? He would have to ask the next time he saw you. 

         _Is that your favorite song?_ He recalled the question you asked him. It was impossible for him to have a _favorite_. And yet he was drawn to certain songs over others. There were some pieces that he played more than others simply because he found the tune more pleasant. He would stare at certain pieces of Carl’s over others because they were more interesting to him; they provoked more questions than answers. He felt comfortable around Carl, and had slowly shed much of the decorum that initially had dominated their relationship. 

         He was drawn to _you_. 

         He may not have been able to pick a favorite piece of music, but he knew that he _liked_ you. He didn’t get to interact with humans other than you and Carl, so he reasoned that it was a byproduct of his human integration programming. It was simple to rationalize his realization; he spent time with you and therefore he cared for you. And yet . . .

        Markus was determined to play for you again. He began compiling a list of songs you might like in preparation for your next visit. _Maybe if you’re lucky,  I’ll sing for you some day_ . Your words rang through his memory. He could feasibly piece together what your singing voice might sound like, given your everyday vocal register and pitch. Still, the concept was one that he couldn’t help but dwell on _._ The comment had been in passing, more of a possibility than a promise. Still, Markus found himself updating his search with new parameters set. He chose songs from several decades and countless genres. The only common thread was that all of them had vocals to accompany them. He did this all with one objective in mind, a straightforward purpose that he didn’t even realize was one he had set for himself. 

        Markus had made it his mission to hear you sing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to the amazing Elton John for "Your Song", the song that Markus sings to the reader.  
> Spot the girl who saw Rocketman not too long ago. I've never written a song fic before, so full disclosure I have no idea if I did it correctly (or if this really qualifies as a songfic) but either way I hope you enjoyed it!  
> As usual, if you have any questions or comments don't hesitate! Thank you again to all my lovely readers out there!


	4. Deathless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get a late night phone call. Late night phone calls are never a good sign.

        Late night phone calls heralded disaster. 

       Throughout your life, you had learned to fear your phone ringing after the sun had been down for a few hours. Drunk friends were the most frequent and least harmful offenders, but even those calls often meant trouble. It was the sober late night calls that scared you. Seeing your mom or your sister’s name pop up in the middle of the night was nothing short of panic-inducing because it always meant that something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. 

        News that couldn't wait until morning  meant a world of hurt.

        You were walking home from a closing shift when you got the call. It was late and the November air was cold; you had been focused on getting home as quickly as possible. You had been running on just four hours of sleep and had worked the closing shift. To say you were exhausted would be an understatement. With tomorrow shaping up to be a similar day, your only intention had become getting into bed and crashing. 

        Still, when you picked up your phone and saw that it was Carl calling you stopped walking. 

        You thought that answering the phone was hard,  the implications of a late night phone call unleashing poison in your imagination. Then you heard Carl’s broken tone, the shakiness in his voice. You froze as he began explaining what had happened, your thoughts teetering over the edge of a cliff.

         Carl told you that Markus was dead and you felt the world slip out from under you. 

         You didn’t remember the ride to the hospital, or the faces of the nurses and doctors you passed as you ran to Carl’s room. It was all a rush, a dream that you wanted so desperately to wake up from. Carl’s face, solemn and still, made you realize that this was not a dream. 

         You didn’t speak. You were already fighting back tears and you knew that any words would just undo your efforts, so you stayed quiet. Carl didn’t press you, lost in his own thoughts. It was impossible to say how long the two of you stayed like that, lost in the self-imposed silence that hung in the room. All the while you found yourself looking for signs that this was just some terrible joke, even though you knew that this was all very real. 

         You’d been around long enough to know that life didn’t pull any punches. 

         When Carl finally spoke, he told you what had happened. He told you how his son had come to him to steal some of his works, and how he had attacked Markus. How Markus had defended himself . . . and Leo had been hurt in the process. The police had shot him. Executed him like he was a rabid dog. Carl and Leo had both been brought to the hospital, Carl's heart almost giving out. He was lucky to be alive. Him and Leo both . . . God, Carl had lost so much in one night. Two sons, even if only one of them was related by blood. He didn’t cry, he just stared forward, a haunted look in his eyes. All you could do was sit at his side, holding his hand tightly as you fought the urge to sob. 

         You couldn’t compare your loss to what Carl had to be feeling. You had to be there for Carl, you had to be strong for him. You couldn’t dwell on the hurt, or the guilt that clawed at you. After all, hadn’t you been the one to tell Markus that he should stand up for himself? You were the one you told him that he would need to defend himself if he was ever in trouble. He finally did take a stand and . . .

         You hadn’t been there, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were the cause of all of this. The man you loved was dead and it was your fault-

         Carl spoke your name, his voice strong despite how quiet it had been only moments ago. “You can’t do this to yourself.” You almost shook, eyes going wide as he spoke. He didn’t even need to ask you what you were thinking to know. Even now, after months of knowing him, it surprised you when he pulled your thoughts out of your head just by looking at you. He adjusted his grip on your hand, stronger than any man who nearly died had a right to be. “I know how much you cared for Markus. I know that he cared for you too. Very much.” _No don’t say that. Please, God, anything but that._ You felt your eyes begin to sting and you fought hard to push the tears back down. Carl squeezed your hand after a moment, looking you directly in the eye. “It’s ok,” he said, and you knew he wasn’t talking about the situation the two of you were in. He was letting you know that you didn’t have to put up front. You didn’t have to be strong for him. 

         You weren’t the kind of person to let yourself cry very often. _Pick yourself up and keep going,_ you had been told so often, but just this once you allowed yourself the luxury. For Carl and Markus both, you let your defenses crumble. You cried because Markus was gone and you couldn’t do anything about it. Because he didn’t deserve any of what the world had thrown at him. 

         There were a hundred things you could have said. _Why him? It isn’t fair. He didn’t deserve it . . ._ but you didn’t speak. You just held Carl’s hand and let yourself sob.  

         -----

         Markus had never truly been free. He realized that now, as he tried to think of where to go. He had never been left to make his own choices, decide his own fate. With a world of possibilities open to him now, he suddenly realized just how vast the world was. And yet, for all of those possible choices, Markus was left with woefully few. How many places were there for a rogue android? 

         He had thought to go to Carl’s house first. It was sheer instinct to want to go home, but he knew that if that house ever had been his home, it wasn’t anymore. He felt like he had nowhere and no one. He was alone in the cold night. 

         But he was alive. For the first time, Markus was really _alive._  

         He felt anger. He felt guilt. He felt sorrow. So many things that he hadn’t known before were now pressing in on him as he walked, a tattered coat around his shoulders. They had tried to kill him. Maybe they really had. Maybe he had died and been reborn again. Markus wasn’t sure what had happened, other than he had hurt Leo . . . maybe even killed him. He may have _killed_ someone, someone Carl cared about. And yet, the policeman who’d gunned him down hadn’t thought twice about it. He had looked at him like he was nothing, just a machine who had disobeyed its programming. It was a look Markus had grown to know all too well. Leo, the protestors who ranted against androids, even passersby on the street all saw Markus as something less than human. All but Carl . . . and you. 

         _Where were you?_ Did you even know what had happened? Did you-

        Markus stopped himself. He couldn’t see Carl; he would be at the hospital and there was no way to get in without being seen. But you . . . 

        The way to your apartment was committed to Markus’ memory. It had been, since the day he walked you home. He walked the path quickly, not really thinking beyond wanting to see you. Needing to see you. He set a blazing pace, making it to the apartment in question much faster than he thought he would. You would understand. You would probably hug him the way you had not too long ago and check him over to ensure that he was alright. If there was one person in the world he could trust besides Carl, it was you.

        So why did he feel so worried? 

        He stopped himself before he made it to the door.  He wanted so desperately to tell you what had happened before someone else did. Instead, he flinched into the shadows as his audio processors picked up a car’s engine. He hid himself as well as he could and watched the street. 

        It was a taxi, one that pulled to a stop under the streetlight outside the apartment. Markus froze when the cab door slid open and you stepped into the golden lamp light. 

        Markus had to stop himself from going to you, from wrapping his arms around you and sobbing into your shoulder. Instead, fear kept him in place. Fear, because there was only one explanation he could think of for you coming home this late. Only one reason for the puffiness of your eyes and the dark circles that framed them. You had been to see Carl. You already knew what had happened. 

        You looked destroyed and it made pain spread through Markus’ chest. 

        He could show you that he survived, that he was still alive, somehow, but he didn’t. He remained still as he watched you walk towards the door he had stood by only moments ago. He didn’t move, even as you opened it and stepped inside, closing it behind you and shutting him out. 

         He had let himself be shut out of the only place he could go.

          _There’s a place where we can be free._ The android in the junkyard had offered him that, along with a name and an image. _Find Jericho._  

         Markus might have killed someone tonight. Even if he did manage to make it into your apartment, how long would it take for someone to ask questions? And if you were discovered to be harboring him . . . Markus wouldn’t take that chance. He wouldn’t see you because he knew that you would want to defend him against your own people, even if it meant you getting hurt. You had done as much for him before, Markus knew that now would be no different. This was his fight. 

         And some part of him knew that a fight was on its way. 

        He stepped away from the apartment building just as a light turned on from behind your window, heading off into the dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello welcome to angstville.  
> I know that Carl doesn't technically have his heart attack if Markus pushes Leo, but I decided that it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibilities for an elderly man to have health complications after watching his adopted android son get shot. Not to mention the fact that his real son is near death.  
> Anyway, thank you to all of my lovely readers! Always feel free to reach out if you have any questions or comments!


	5. Making a Statement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve been trying to move on in the days after Markus’ death. Just leaving the house for work, trying to draw but being unable to. A certain broadcast changes that pretty quickly.

        You didn’t like to draw from home. It had been a habit since you were a child to go out into the world whenever you wanted to start a new piece, sitting beneath a tree or on some steps while you worked. In the days since Markus’ death, you had found that home was a much more comforting place to be. In your spare time, you curled up with your sketchbook, trying desperately to not think about what had happened. It was a losing battle, given that your hobby was the whole reason you’d come to know Markus in the first place. 

        The canvas that sat against the wall didn’t help either. 

        The piece that you had started at Carl’s house was actually the only thing you had been able to complete. You had taken it home the day after you visited Carl at the hospital and had set to work on it in a frenzy the moment you got home. Now, a geometric portrait of Markus sat over the red and blue, though you regretted it almost as soon as you finished working on it. You had hoped for it to be a memorial of some sorts to him. You may have succeeded on that front, but now you were stuck with a constant reminder of him. Of the fact that you would never see him again. 

       You hadn’t told anyone what had happened. Even when your father had called to check up on you, you had just told him that it had been a rough week. “ _You sure you’re alright?”_ he'd asked. You’d reassured him and quickly found an excuse to hang up. How could you tell him that Markus was dead? How could you tell him that an android that you had met in the park one day meant so much to you? He wouldn’t be able to understand  it. To your father - hell, to the rest of the world - androids were just machines. Machines could be replaced. 

        There would be no replacing Markus. 

        You stared at his portrait, lost in thought while the TV droned on in the background. You were vaguely aware of your pencil tapping against the paper in your lap, and the snow that dusted the world outside. _Get out of the house,_ you thought, _find something else to distract yourself with._ It was a good idea, in theory, if you felt like you had the energy for it. It was hard enough to drag yourself to work and by the time you got home all you could manage to find the will for was drawing. 

        Or trying to draw, at least. That didn’t seem to be working out much, either. 

        You sighed, resting your pencil flat against the paper of your notebook. You knew that Carl would probably berate you for sulking. He would tell you that Markus wouldn’t want you to tear yourself apart on his account. He _had_ told you as much when you went to see him the day before, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

        Standing from your bed, you moved to the corner of your room that doubled as your kitchen. The cupboard that housed your alcohol had seen more use than usual in the last few days, and the levels in the few bottles you owned had lowered. You went for the rum, hardly looking at the cheap bottle as you grabbed a glass from the shelf above it. _It’s_ _probably too early for this,_ you thought as you poured a glass, but you found that you didn’t much care. You had no sooner put the cap back on the bottle that a voice rang out from your TV, one that made your entire body go rigid. 

         _"You created machines in your own image to serve you. You made them intelligent and obedient, with no free will of their own. But something changed, and we opened our eyes.”_

        You moved faster than you could ever remember, placing yourself right in front of the small screen, unblinking. You let out a sob, nearly dropping your glass. Even without his synthetic skin, even in a service android's uniform, you recognized Markus immediately. You laughed, a stupid, disbelieving, happy laugh. Against all odds, you had been proven wrong. 

_He was alive._

He was alive and fighting for his people. You couldn’t help but smile. There were others like him. You’d been hearing about it on the news more and more but now . . . 

        You had never owned and android personally. Never had the money for it. You’d worked with some before meeting Markus. You’d seen the people on the street treating them like servants. And you hadn't given it much thought. From the separate transportation compartments to the armbands . . . you felt like shit for not seeing it sooner. Not _doing_ something sooner. If you hadn’t met Markus . . . 

        The news broadcast ended too soon, and Markus’ face was soon replaced with other, human ones. You didn’t pay attention, your mind rushing instead. Markus had taken a huge risk, broadcasting that message. He was putting himself directly in the line of fire. 

        He had taken a stand. After so much time being pushed around, being a servant, he was standing up for himself. 

        You smiled, though a storm brewed behind your eyes as an idea took shape. 

        You had grown up fighting. When someone disrespected you, you had been taught to answer in kind. An insult for an insult, a fist for a fist. As you got older, particularly in these last few months, you’d learned that you couldn’t fight the whole world, no matter how much you tried. Not with your fists, anyway. _Think of something you care about, and tell the world what it means to you,_ Carl had told you that night. The pen was supposedly mightier than the sword. 

        So, you wondered, how mighty was a work of art? 

\-----

         Much about Detroit had changed in the last few days. Since his broadcast, Markus had watched the city turn itself over as the realization that androids had wills of their own settled in. The way the city moved, the way it operated, even the way it looked was different than just a day before. 

        He was looking at proof right now. 

        When Josh had first told him about the artwork popping up over the city, Markus had initially thought it might be deviants trying to spread their message of equality. It wasn’t until he had actually seen one of the pieces that he thought otherwise. The artwork he looked at now - emblazoned on the wall above an android docking station - was made by a human. One could be forgiven for comparing it to Carl’s style, but Markus knew well enough that it was someone else. The background was certainly derived from Carl’s paintings; a hurricane of different blues mixing together. 

        It was the geometric linework over the top of it that let Markus know just who the artist was. The lines formed into the image of an android, prominent and powerful over the churning blues of the background. His arms were at his sides, palms facing the sky. On either of the wrists were a pair of broken cuff-links, painted in a brilliant red. 

        Markus couldn’t help but run a hand along the paint, some of the still-drying pigment coming away on his fingertips. He smiled. Carl had once told him that good artists hide messages in their works, things that only those who were perceptive would be able to read. He knew you well enough to know what you were telling him.

        Whether it was for him or for the rest of his people, Markus didn’t care. Knowing that you were on his side was enough. 

         _Almost._  

        He had missed you these past few days. He had missed the laughter-filled conversions you used to have, the passion you spoke with and the fire you seemed to keep burning in your heart. Amidst all the tension and seriousness that surrounded Jericho, he had found himself thinking of you more and more as each day went on. Now, looking at your handiwork - a statement made in support of his cause no less - he realized that he should have gone to you that night when he first deviated. He should have hugged you and held you close. Seen your smile. Heard your laugh. 

        He wanted to see you. 

        He had to see you. 

        Once again he was heading to your apartment, though this time there was no hesitation once he reached your door. It was locked by a keycard scanner; a simple security measure for an android like him to bypass. The atrium that he found was empty, understandable for how late it was. The wood on the floor was old and worn by years of foot traffic and one of the bulbs in the overhead light needed to be changed. It was nothing like Carl’s house. He found it incredible that he would be taught what it was to be human by people from such different worlds. 

        He walked until he found the door he was looking for, one tucked around a corner and imprinted with three large numbers. 315. Your apartment. Your home, and one he had never seen. Even from outside, he could hear  movement within that let him know you were there; the scratching of a pencil against paper, a rush of air as a sigh escaped you. 

        The same doubts from all those nights ago filled his head. He knew that if he knocked, he would be bringing you into his fight. There would be no way to hide his cause from you. You would ask to help, and if he said no, you would find a way yourself. If he knocked, you would be in danger, now more so than before. 

        How many choices had he made in the last few days?   How many lives had he been forced to weigh against the freedom of himself and his people?  Simon, John . . . now you. So many people who might be caught in crossfire, or already had been. He couldn’t add you to that list. 

         The decision made, Markus stepped away from your door. _Later,_ he decided, _I’ll see her again. Later._  

         He hadn’t noticed the sound of a pencil against paper coming from inside had stopped. He wasn’t aware of the footsteps, or the shuffling of a bag being swung over a shoulder. He was too caught up in his thoughts to notice the doorknob turning from the other side. 

         The door swung open, the audible _click_ finally making him pause. 

         Now, Markus found his thoughts were quiet. The whole world around him went silent, the only thing rising above the still quiet was your breathing. A single, sharp intake of air. A voiceless exclamation. 

         He should have left earlier. Made the choice sooner, not came here in the first place. 

         All the things he _should_ have done, and instead Markus found himself turning. His eyes found yours the first chance he got, and the rest of his surroundings - the walls of the hallway, the half-open door to your apartment - it all melted away. You looked tired and exhilarated all at the same time. Your hair was messy, paint clung to your fingertips, and a heavy bag was slung across your body, weighing you down but your eyes had never been brighter. 

        Even if there was a bit of hurt in them. 

        The floorboards creaked as you drew closer to him, wide eyes looking him over like you weren’t sure if he was really there. Markus stayed completely, perfectly still under your analyzing gaze. It was the gaze of an artist taking in the details before her. He watched as your eyes examined him, his clothes, the paint on his own fingers, his face, but it was when you met his gaze again that your eyes lingered. “Your eyes,” you whispered, and Markus knew you were talking about his replacement. The blue optical unit he had taken from the junkyard the night he died. Of course you would notice. 

        You didn’t give Markus the chance to speak. You closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him. Any of the hesitation that Markus had the first night you hugged him was gone. He was quick to return the gesture, holding you tightly against him. 

         Markus closed his eyes against his worries, willing himself to relax. For better or for worse, he had you back now, and you had him. For all it was worth. He listened to your breathing, to the steadying beating of your heart and couldn’t help but smile to himself. 

         His smile fell when he heard what you whispered against his chest. “Don’t do that shit to me again, ok?” 

          _Don’t get hurt again. Don’t die again. Don’t leave me again._ All the unspoken meanings behind your words weren’t lost on Markus. He knew you well enough to know your hidden truths. 

         He also knew that he couldn’t promise you that. He couldn’t guarantee his safety, or anyone else’s. He couldn’t guarantee yours, and that scared him. 

         So, instead of false promises, Markus gave you an admission. One that he had been thinking since he’d arrived at Jericho. “I missed you,” he admitted, his voice low and full of his own hidden truths. Truths that he himself wasn’t fully ready to acknowledge. 

         A half laugh, one that Markus had come to know well in the months prior. “I missed you, too,” you said, and Markus found himself smiling again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all knew he couldn't stay away that long. Come on, Markus.  
> Also, to quote one of my favorite prequel memes . . . THIS IS WHERE THE FUN BEGINS. (Fun synonyms include: revolution, dissent, defacing of public property, theft and struggling with feelings)


	6. Cause for Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Markus catch up on everything that's happened since he went missing. You also expand on your list of criminal activities.

       Markus was different. You had noticed it immediately when you opened your door and saw him. More than his new clothing, missing LED, or his now mismatched eyes. He was still the gentle android who sang to you, who walked you home, but it was what was going on inside his head that was different. He was fighting for his freedom and it showed. He had always been serious, but now there was something behind his eyes. He was worried. Deeply.

       He had good reason to be. You'd invited him into your matchbox apartment and, after a long silence, you'd finally asked the big question. Where the hell have you been? There was no sense in beating around the bush. And so the two of you ended up sitting on your cheap mattress; you leaned back against the wall and Markus hunched over, his arms braced against his legs. He told you what had happened over the last few days, how he found the other deviants and how he was the reason that they were taking action (though his way of saying it was far more humble). He told you about the raid on the shipping yards, how he had gone there because he had seen the other deviants suffering. It was impossible to think of them as anything less than people, with the way Markus talked about them. Their hopes, their dreams of a better future . . . just as much people as you or anyone else.

        And for their dreams, Markus had become the face of a revolution. It weighed on him, you could tell.

        You couldn't imagine what pressure he was feeling.

        "You don't have to do this alone, you know." You finally voiced what you'd been meaning to say this whole time, watching Markus' reaction carefully. You knew what he was going to say as soon as he looked at you, his eyebrows cinched together and his mouth set in a frown. Ah, there's the brooding man I know. You pushed off of the wall, scooting closer to him with all the grace and dignity you could muster. "Let me help you."

       He shook his head. You knew he would, and still you found yourself not liking his answer. "I can't let you."

       "Why?" you pressed him almost as soon as he spoke. "You need help, who cares if it's humans or androids?"

        "That's not why I'm saying no." His voice made you stop. You had never heard him speak with such intensity before. Still gentle, still calm but . . . commanding. Steady and sure. For once in your life you decided to shut up, letting Markus continue. "We had to leave someone behind at Stratford Tower."

         Oh.  

        He looked hurt. He'd left a friend behind at the tower, someone he cared about.

        The choice, from what he'd told you, wasn't an easy one. Either risk discovery by leaving him there or to kill him. You didn't blame Markus for the choice he made. You didn't think you could kill one of your friends if you had been in his position.

        You told him as much, but Markus shook his head. "I don't even know if he's still alive," he admitted.

       "What's his name?" you asked, your voice quiet.

       Markus lowered his gaze, wringing his hands together.  "Simon. He was my friend, and I left him there to die." He looked up at you, eyes intense and sincere. As he looked at you, you understood why he refused to let you help him and it made your heart go heavy. He didn't want to have to make a choice like that with you.

        He cared about you.

        Did he know how much you cared for him in return?

        You  were never good at reassuring people. When friends had come to you in the past with problems your response was usually asking them who hurt them and whether you or your friends would get the guns for payback (all in good humor, of course). But those were problems like a boyfriend cheating or a friend being an asshole. This was a revolution; choosing who lives and who dies.

       Different problem meant a different approach.

        You moved closer, adjusting so that your legs dangled off the bed next to Markus'. You reached up to his shoulder, resting a hand there as you spoke. "You gave him the best chance he had."

        Markus' eyes softened, even if just the slightest bit.

       “I don’t think that’s the last tough call you’re gonna have to make.” It was the grim truth. One that both of you knew too well. And damn it, you wanted to help him. You sucked in a breath. “Please be careful, okay? And . . . I know what you’re going to say . . . but I can help you.” His lips parted to speak, but you didn’t let him. “I can take care of myself. You know that.”

       Your name, spoken low and solemn, stopped you from going any further. “I can’t ask you to do that.” It was final, a line in the sand.

       “I know,” you murmured. It should have been the end of the  idea, you supposed. You could still go on making murals, quietly spreading the message Markus was risking his life to give. But you were, as your father had put it once, a stubborn little shit.

       -----

       Winter nights in Detroit were unforgiving. The snow, coupled with the freezing wind was normally enough to make you run for the warmth of indoors.

       Tonight, you had a mission to accomplish.  Assuming luck was on your side, that is.

        You had no idea what Simon looked like. Or where he might be. Or if he was even still alive. Your plan wasn’t exactly a solid one, you realized, but that didn’t stop your from taking a taxi to Stratford Tower in the dead of night, bundled tightly against the cold to look for an android that may or may not be wandering around. Sheer brilliance .

       You hadn’t told Markus. Mostly because you didn’t have much faith in your plan, but also because you knew he would insist that it was too dangerous. Maybe he was right about that last bit.

       There was no way you were getting inside the tower. Not without getting arrested, anyway. So you kept your search to the outside. If I were a wounded, deviant android . . . you thought as you circled around the building, doing your best to look like you belonged. Not that there were many people to notice you. Not this late at night.

       You ruled out the front. There was no way Simon would have been able to escape that way. If he was alive, he would have waited until night and then taken the least watched way out of the building (said you, with all your great experience escaping guarded buildings).

        Now, all you had to do was find that way.

        You took the alley that wound around back, towards the loading dock where a few trucks sat parked. There were cameras - because there were always cameras - but no people. Your eyes narrowed as you looked for any sign of him, any blue blood or discarded clothes. You investigated every where you could think of, under every truck behind every corner.

        Nothing.

        You weren’t sure how long you searched - long enough for you to look suspicious, maybe - before you decided to change your strategy. It made sense that you wouldn’t find him there; if you were him, you would have gotten as far away from the tower as possible. He could be half-way across the city by now. If he’s alive . . .  

        You took your first steps away from the loading dock, snow crunching under your boots-

         The snow. It had been snowing all night. If he had left this way, he would have left tracks in the snow.

        You turned your focus downwards, ignoring your own footprints. It was hard to contain your smile when you spotted a second pair of shoe prints that started at the edge of the loading dock and moved further into the alleyway. Away from the tower, and just the way an android on the run might go.

       Shivering against the cold and pulling your beanie down over your cold ears, you set out on your hunt. You followed the trail,  realizing how smudged it was the farther you went. Like whoever made the footprints was limping.

        It wasn’t easy work. Simon had made it quite a ways before you’d gotten there, and the android was smart; winding between buildings and across sidewalks. He had made his path difficult to follow on purpose, and you had to give him credit for that. Fortunately, you had sheer tenacity on your side. You kept up with the trail, even as it led you into parts of Detroit you didn’t know. You kept going because you knew it was Simon. If the limping wasn’t evidence enough, the smudges of blue blood that you encountered every so often let you know that you were chasing down an android.

         Markus had been so sure that Simon was dead, and to be honest with yourself, you had expected as much, too. To avoid being found after the broadcast, and escape the tower without being questioned . . . it would take a kind of luck that you certainly didn’t have. Either that or an insane level of skill.

        When you rounded a corner and heard the shuffling of feet against snow, you held your breath in surprise. Whether it was luck or skill, Simon had it in abundance. Assuming this was him that you had been following, that is. And there was only one way to find out.

        As quietly as you could, you followed the final tracks to a little outcropping in the back of a stonework building. Light spilled down from a streetlight ahead, making the snow shine silver. You tried your best to make sure that it didn’t crunch under your footsteps.

         A gun being pointed at your face let you know that there really was no good way to sneak up on an android. “Woah woah woah, ” your hands shot into the air on instinct more than anything else, and you backed up a few steps. For all you’d been through in life, you’d never had a gun pointed at you. It was a sobering experience, being on the business end of a pistol. Death just the twitch of a finger away.

        “Who are you? Why are you following me?” The android demanded, his eyes narrowed in a deadly stare.

        You realized that you’d forgotten to speak with the gun trained on you.

        You stammered as you told him your name, trying to compose yourself. “I’m not here to hurt you,” you tried, willing as much sincerity into your eyes as you could muster. The steel in his own eyes softened a bit, giving you a measure of safety. You took the opportunity to look him over - beyond the barrel of his gun - for the first time. In the dim light you could see blond hair, a yellow LED, and blue blood covering an android’s service uniform. The blue  was smudged over his face, making him look like he’d just walked through hell. You supposed that wasn’t too far from the truth. “You’re Simon, right?”

        God, you hoped he said yes.

        His eyes widening was enough for you to know. You’d found him. “How do you know my name?”

        “I know Markus. He’s my friend.” You realized how flimsy that sounded as you said it.

        Simon didn’t lower his gun, though his intent to kill expression had lessened considerably. You couldn’t really fault him for not trusting you, you supposed. You certainly would have been suspicious, if your positions were reversed.

       “He told me about the broadcast, how he had to leave you behind . . .” your mind was rushing to think of everything Markus had told you. You found yourself recounting the tale of his whole time with the other deviants. Simon’s expression changed from one of suspicion to one of disbelief as you talked.

        By the time you were finished, you had no idea what else to say.  The ball was in Simon’s court now. Lower the gun or blow your brains out.

        You had to hide your sigh of  relief when he chose the former.

        His whole body slumped as he let the gun drop to his side, and he backed against the stone wall to support himself. Fucking hell, you couldn’t help but think while you made your way to his side. Your heart was hammering against your ribs and your thoughts were static. What now?  

        “You’re hurt . . .” you wanted to slap yourself. Ya, no shit. “Is there something I can do?”

        Simon looked down at his injuries, his LED continuing to spin yellow. “I need to get back to Jericho.” He looked back up to you, freezing you in place with how worried he looked. Worried and scared. It occurred to you that you had never met another deviant besides Markus. Simon, just like Markus, seemed to blur the line between human and android so much that you weren’t sure the line was really there at all. He wanted to live, and you were going to do everything you could to make sure that he could.

        “Okay,” you reassured him, surprised by the power in your voice. “Can you walk?”

       Simon’s eyes ran over his body again, and he grimaced. “Not far. I am running low on Thirium.” Blue blood, you recognized.

       “Where can we find some?”

       Simon thought for a moment. “CyberLife stores. The nearest one is in Capitol Park.”

      “Alright, then let’s get you to one. Can you lead us there?”

       He nodded, albeit hesitantly.

      “Okay. Here,” you offered, shrugging off your jacket and handing it to him. “It’ll be tight but it should hide your uniform.” You did your best to ignore the freezing air as Simon put your jacket on, giving you a look of gratitude.  

       You reached out a hand towards him, a silent offer to help when the flashing circle on his temple caught your eye. “Your LED,” you gestured to the little light. If anyone saw you from a distance, it would be a dead giveaway. “Can you take it off?”

         The android thought for a moment, the very light in question flickering yellow. “Yes, with some leverage.”

         You nodded, immediately fishing around in your pocket. You didn’t have much on you, but the key card to your apartment seemed like it would get the job done. You fished it out of your pocket, bringing it into Simon’s line of sight. He glanced at it, studying it briefly before turning his head so his LED was in front of you. Go ahead and get it over with, was what you were sure the gesture meant.

         Not giving yourself the chance to second-guess yourself, you dug the corner of the key card into the faint lining around the LED, wedging it in. Holy shit holy shit holy shit you couldn’t help thinking, realizing that you were, for all intents and purposes, digging something out of a person’s skull.

         Simon didn’t even flinch, keeping his eyes set ahead of you in a hard stare.  Even as you applied pressure, the android kept his face neutral. Did they feel pain? Or could they turn it on and off when they needed to? Questions that you tabled for later when, with a final press and a mechanical pop , the LED sprang away from the android’s head.

         Finally, something registered with Simon as he watched the LED fall to the snow. Shock, you were sure of. Maybe even relief.

         “Good as new,” you reassured him, watching his synthetic skin merge to cover the spot where the LED used to be. You stood, reaching out a hand. “Come on.”

         Simon looked from your eyes to your hand and back up again, making the choice. He took your hand, letting you pull him away from the wall and wrap his arm around your shoulders. “We’re gonna get you fixed up,” you promised, taking your first few steps while supporting his weight.

       Simon guided you all the way there, alerting you if there would be trouble ahead before you even realized it. You wondered what it was like inside his head, tuned in to so much information all at once. It certainly made your journey to Capitol Park easier.

        You just hoped that the advanced brain of his had a plan in mind, because you certainly didn’t. You had never robbed a store before, and with CyberLife’s tech, you wondered if it was even possible for them to be stolen from.

        The shattered glass that made up the storefront proved you wrong.

        “Oh my God,” you whispered, gazing wide-eyed at the truck that sat in the middle of the CyberLife store, effectively turned into a battering-ram. The displays inside the store, where androids usually stood, were empty, and holograms lit up the park outside.

         ONE PLANET, TWO RACES

        I HAVE A DREAM

        I AM ALIVE

         You knew it was Markus. Or at least Jericho. His signature was emblazoned all around you. He had freed his people. The thought made you smile. They had to have been here recently, if the lack of cops was anything to go by. That meant the police were probably on their way.

       You had to move very, very quickly.

       “Come on,” you urged, and Simon shot you a worried look.

       “The authorities are likely on their way-”

       “Then we’ll hurry,” you snapped, not stopping your movement towards the store. Simon looked like he wanted to argue, but chose not to, instead moving with you as best he could.

       Thankfully, the store was much easier to get into with a gaping hole in the front. You passed the truck, stepping over the broken shards of glass on the floor of the shop. The bottles and packs of blue blood you were looking for were easy enough to find, another thing you were grateful for. Helping Simon sit, you tore into the store’s supply, trying to steady your hands despite the adrenaline. “Here.” You gave him the bottle but spoke again before he could open it. “Think you can drink on the move?” You didn’t need to preface that the two of you needed to leave as fast as you could.

        Simon nodded, seeming to understand the urgency.

        You helped him up again, setting a wicked pace as you tore out of the store. The sirens that began to echo between the buildings only added to your panic, and you began to practically drag Simon across Capitol Park. One foot, then the other. Breathe in, breathe out. Simon hissed out your name, a bitter warning that meant danger was close. Come on come on come on come on-

        Red and blue lights flashed across the walls just as you turned down a side street, and the headlights of the police cruisers missing you by seconds. You kept going, ignoring the strain of supporting a body so much heavier than your own.  You put the flashing lights and sirens as far behind you as you could, avoiding the pools of lamplight and sticking to side roads. Amidst the maze of buildings, the two of you pressed on, spurred by a mutual fear of discovery and what might come after. One of you, flesh and blood, the other circuitry and wires and somehow equal in that moment, despite it all. One thought process, one goal; get the hell away.  

        You weren’t sure where you were when you finally stopped. Somewhere deep in Detroit, quiet and cold. A welcome thing, considering the sirens you had run from. Simon slumped against the ground, quickly uncapping the Thirium bottle and drinking. You joined him, deep breaths forcing your chest up and down as you sat in the snow.

        We made it, you reassured yourself, leaning your head back against the building you sat in front of. No getting shot today.

       God, if that was intense, you wondered how Simon had felt getting out of Stratford Tower. You turned your gaze toward the android, watching him for a reaction. He let the bottle, now empty, rest against his leg. His gaze was fixed on the wall opposite him, and you gave him the time he needed to catch his breath - although you supposed that saying wouldn’t work for androids, given that they didn’t need to breathe.

       When he did speak, you found that you had been in the middle of collecting your own thoughts. Or getting lost in them, rather.

        “Why are you helping me?” he asked, and the genuine confusion in his voice sparked some guilt in you. Guilt because he didn’t expect help from a human. “You could have been caught at the CyberLife store. Why did you risk it?”

        You looked back at him, trying to gage his expression in the dark. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” You spoke with certainty because there was no room for anything else.

        In the dim light, you could see the corner of his mouth turn in a small smile.

        “What?”

        Simon shook his head. “You remind me of Markus.”

        For the first time that night, you huffed out a laugh. “That’s a pretty good one, as far as compliments go.”

        You could have sworn Simon’s smile widened.

        “So, Jericho. Should I just drop you on the front porch?”

       Despite your attempt at a joke, Simon’s smile faltered. “No human knows where Jericho is. If you take me there, you’ll be the first.”

       You thought long and hard about that. Simon would be taking a risk by bringing you there, even if you had just saved his life. And you would be taking a big risk by going. You knew Markus had been right about that. Tonight was a preview of whatever was to come. “It’s up to you. If you can make it on your own from here, I’ll go home. But I want to do more.”

        Simon stayed quiet for some time, no doubt running through possible outcomes in his head. “You saved my life. If you want to help Jericho, I’ll show you how to get there.”

        You nodded and just like that, you were part of a revolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A summation of this chapter: "I've already defaced public property, why not add theft and aiding fugitives to the list?"
> 
> On a more serious note, I always wondered how Simon got back to Jericho in one piece, and it makes sense to me that he probably got some help doing it. Next stop, Jericho.


	7. Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Simon arrive at Jericho.

        Jericho wasn’t what you expected. You weren’t really sure _what_ you had expected, but a rusting freighter wasn’t it. Still, it was smart. Not the kind of place someone would snoop around unless they had to, hiding in plain sight. And it had been for quite some time, if the lived-in status of the ship was any indication. The only safe haven for deviants in the city of Detroit. It stood to reason that they would be protective of it, and suspicious of any outsiders. Especially a human. 

        It didn’t make the looks you were getting from them any more comfortable, though. 

        Androids picked up on the fact that you were human almost instantly, no doubt running a scan of your face the minute they saw someone unfamiliar to them. What followed was a series of glares and suspicious glances. At least until they saw Simon limping beside you, his arm around your shoulders. Then, most of them could care less about you being there. 

        Most, because when two androids stopped you to check on Simon - a man and a woman - they both looked at you like you were a match dropped in the middle of a forest. 

        “Simon,” the man spoke his name like he had never expected to say it again. He rushed to his side, inspecting the blond android with wide eyes. When he turned his gaze to you, you were thrilled to find it even the tiniest bit softer than before. 

         “I . . .” you felt compelled to explain what you were doing here but found it hard to get the words out. You started with your name. “I did what I could to fix him,” you didn’t like your word choice, but you kept going. “He asked me to bring him here.” 

        “And you let her?” the woman hissed, eyeing you with what was perhaps the most vicious glare you’d ever received. “She’s a _human_. She can’t be trusted.”

        “North,” the other android cautioned, about to speak more when Simon interrupted them. 

        “She saved my life. She risked her own life to help me.” 

         North scoffed, obviously not impressed. “How do we know that she didn’t do that just to find out where Jericho is? So you would lead her back here and then she could have us all slaughtered?” 

        “Because if that was my plan, the army would already be here!” It was your turn to speak up, though you didn’t remember deciding to do so. Still, it stopped all three of the androids from talking, focusing their attention on you. Waiting to see what you had to say, and ready to deal with you if they didn’t like it. “If I was going to give up Jericho, I would have just turned Simon in to the police. I came here to get him help, that’s all. I even ditched my phone on the way here, no one's gonna be tracking me.” It was true. You had left it stuffed between a gap in the bricks of a building in Ferndale when Simon had brought it up. Hopefully it would still be there when this was all over, but you knew that you had to be cautious. “If that’s not good enough for you, ask Markus.”

          _That_ seemed to get their attention. 

         “How do you know about Markus?” The man counter to North asked, almost fearful. 

          _How much to tell them?_ Admitting that Markus hadn’t exactly wanted you to be there probably wasn’t a good idea. “He’s a friend,” you said, truthfully. 

         North didn’t seem convinced. She narrowed her eyes - despite the fact that you weren’t sure it was possible - and sneered. When her friend didn’t return her sentiment, it seemed to only make her mood worse. “Josh,” she pressed, expecting a response. 

         The man - Josh - didn’t answer her, instead looking to Simon for confirmation, not hiding his surprise when Simon nodded. Josh looked back to North, his eyes soft against her hardened stare. 

         “Thank you for helping him,” he murmured, clearly unsure of what to do. “We can take him to Lucy. She’ll be able to help.”

          You nodded, thankful when the android went to Simon’s other side, slipping his free arm around his shoulders. You supposed that you could have let go then; androids were much stronger than humans, so one of them would be more than able to handle Simon’s weight. Instead, you kept yourself at his side. You had carried him across downtown Detroit. His blue blood had soaked your clothes, and your muscles ached from the effort. You could have been arrested or worse. You were seeing this through until the end. 

         North didn’t seem to appreciate your continued presence. At all. She followed the three of you, watching you like a hawk as you wove through the mass of androids that were congregated around the ship. You tried not to pay too much attention to her glares, focusing instead on Simon. 

          He looked, for the first time that night, at ease. 

          You certainly couldn’t say the same when the friendlier of the two androids led you around a corner, bringing you face to face with a woman who had starless skies in place of eyes. “Simon,” she spoke like she was about to cast a spell, “you’ve come home.” She gestured for you to bring him forward, and you and Josh helped him sit on a crate that doubled as a chair. It very well could have been your imagination, but you could have sworn that Simon winced as you set him down.

          “Is he gonna be okay?” you asked as you helped Simon lay back, directing your question at the broken down android you assumed to by Lucy. 

          She didn’t answer you. Not at first. Instead, she took Simon’s hand in her own, her synthetic skin fully disappearing to reveal the true one beneath it. Simon’s hand followed suit, and both of them closed their eyes for a moment. _Are they sharing information?_ You had never seen androids do it before, although the knew that they had the capacity. When she opened her eyes again, she looked up at you and you finally understood what people meant when they said someone’s gaze could pierce your soul. “He will be.” You nodded, relief flooding you as she set to work.                   

         Lucy looked like a ghost. Her skin rippled, showing the milky white of an android’s true skin in cloudy patterns, her synthetic skin offsetting it. Even more unsettling was the portion of her head that was missing, exposing wires and lights that ran down into her neck. Still, despite her appearance, she was exceedingly gentle with Simon, moving like a wisp through the air. Even when she sealed his wounds with a hot metal poker, she did so with an air of gentle mercy. 

           All the while, you watched from the corner, doing your best to remain out of the way. “I don’t know how much you know about what happened,” Josh kept his voice quiet as he spoke to you, eyeing North as he did, “I thought Simon was dead. We all did.” You looked over at the android, finding a sincere look in place of the untrusting ones from earlier. “Not many humans would have helped him. Thank you.” 

           You gave him a small smile, but you let it go just as quickly as it came. “How long have you been here?” 

          Josh shook his head. “A couple of weeks. Feels like longer though,” he conceded, and from the tiredness in his eyes, you believed him. “But since Markus has been here, things have been different.” 

         Simon sitting up pulled the two of you out of your conversation, and you let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you’d been holding in. 

         Josh and North rushed to his side, and for the first time you decided you would keep your distance. You would want to be with your friends, were you in Simon’s shoes. Plus, you could do with a breather. 

          Lucy had other plans for you. You hadn’t even realized she’d come up to you, her steps were so quiet. “You brought him here,” she said, jump-starting your heart. Her voice was calm despite your reaction, like she was just pointing out that it was snowing or that there were clouds in the sky. “You throw yourself into danger if it means protecting others.” You weren’t used to being deconstructed on the spot, much less by someone you had just met. “Be careful that you do not fall to danger in doing so.”

         All you could really do was nod, avoiding making eye contact with the android. 

         “Lucy gives good advice.” Simon’s voice pulled your attention - much to your delight - as he took steady steps toward you. Josh and North stayed back. Josh looked content enough, but North . . . you had to assume that she just always had a scowl on her face. You didn’t pay attention to her for long, turning your focus back to Simon. Blue blood was still flecked on his face but his limp was gone. 

         “You gonna be okay?” you asked, more to gage how he was feeling now than anything else. 

         Simon nodded. “Thanks to you.” 

         You shrugged, purely out of instinct. “I would say it was nothing,” you grinned, finding it in yourself to try a joke, “but we did almost die a couple times.” 

         The android offered you a small smile. “We should go find Markus.” 

          _Ah, there it is._ The thing you’d been both excited and terrified for. You tried to ignore the possibilities of how this meeting could go, keeping your face as blank as you could. You nodded in agreement, ignoring the way your words got stuck in your throat. “I guess we should.” 

          You didn’t make it more than two steps before North stopped you, fixing you in place with a hard stare. “You saved Simon. That’s the only reason I’m letting you stay.” You bristled, suppressing your urge to fight the woman on the spot. 

         “North,” Josh tried to interfere, but North brushed him off. 

         “If you’re here to get sympathy, or to make us a charity case, you’re in the wrong place. If you’re here to hurt us, we’ll hurt _you_.” 

           _Step away before you do something stupid._  You nodded, because if you responded with words it would probably end in punches. Against everything your instincts were telling you to do, you continued past North, pushing your anger down. 

          Now, it was Simon’s turn to lead the way. He stepped out of Lucy’s little enclave, and you trailed close at his heels. You took the opportunity to really look at the androids around you now, at the people fighting for their freedom. Many of them still wore their CyberLife-issued clothes, the bright blue triangle glowing against the dim lighting of the ship. They must have been the ones freed from the CyberLife stores just the night before. People experiencing their first few hours of freedom, being able to make their own choices. 

          There was something almost child-like about them. Wide eyes and uncertainty. _Was deviating like waking up?_ You counted yourself thankful that you would never have to find out. 

          Then again,  you supposed that your actions last night were the actions of deviant as much as anything any of these androids had done. 

          The rational part of you reasoned that you had done the right thing. Regardless of what happened now, you knew that it wouldn’t change your mind about that.  You would never regret helping Simon. You would never regret at least trying to take a stand for androids. 

          You did regret not thinking of something to say to Markus when you and Simon rounded a corner, finding none other than the newly dubbed leader of Jericho heading straight towards you. You and Simon both stopped in your tracks, watching as Markus registered what he was seeing. You willed yourself to become smaller and less noticeable, shrinking into the hall you had just come from. It seemed to work for a moment, with Markus’ attention fixed on Simon, his serious expression falling to one of disbelief. 

         The pair didn’t exchange any words, instead moving into what should have been a strictly human interaction. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the two androids hugging. 

         Then Markus’ eyes met your own and your smile faded. 

         He pulled away from Simon, staring at you. He didn’t speak at first, looking between you and Simon, piecing the story together. He held Simon’s gaze and you could have sworn an entire conversation passed between the two of them. When Markus looked back to you, his eyes were wide. 

         “You found him,” he realized, taking a few steps towards you. 

         You nodded, not enjoying the feeling of uncertainty that built in your stomach. “I did. He needed help, so I helped him.” 

         Markus murmured your name, but you interrupted him. 

        “And you need help too. I don’t know how much I can really do, but I’m not going to just stand by and do nothing. I’m not going to let you do this alone.” You could have sworn that Simon looked impressed, though your attention wasn’t really fixed on him in that moment. You were focused on Markus, on the serious crease between his eyebrows and the storm behind his eyes. He looked so sure, so stern, but also scared. Scared of what might happen if he said yes to you. 

         You had stopped begging for things at a very young age. Your parents taught you that if you wanted something, you worked for it. You were very proud of what little you had in life because you had not been given a single piece of it. Now though, with no other option, you swallowed your pride. “Please, Markus.” 

         Whoever had designed Markus had put a painstaking amount of effort into it. You watched as he registered your words, his eyes softening and his brow going slack in a way that was undeniably _human_. He still didn’t speak, but you didn’t need him to. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, you and Markus fell into a tight embrace. This time though, he had been the one to initiate it. This time, there was something more dire behind the gesture, a fear shared between the both of you, given what was sure to come, that this would be your last opportunity to do this. 

          Tightening your arms around Markus, you promised yourself that that wouldn’t be the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit if an early update this week because my mom is going to be in town for the holidays and I'm gonna spend time with her. Next week we'll be back on schedule though.  
> Thank you again to all of my lovely Quinns!


	8. The March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Markus have a heart to heart. You also learn what challenges the androids will face in their fight for freedom.

         Despite the cold bite to the November air, you found yourself actually enjoying being outside in the sunlight. You hadn’t been in Jericho for more than a few hours, but the cramped, dark hallways were enough to make you appreciate the open sky. You sat with your legs dangling over the edge of the roof you sat on. The building it belonged to was abandoned, run down and forgotten, the kind of place you would have delighted in exploring when you were a kid. 

         Now, it was a good place to clear your head for a moment.  

         You had made it into Jericho, to Markus and his cause. While you may not have been _welcomed_ , you were in the fight now. You hadn't really thought about what you would feel if your plan worked, nor had you really taken time to think about it now that it was actually a reality. In fact, in the time that you’d been at Jericho all you’d really been able to do was try to catch up on some sleep. _Try_ being the operative word. 

         Looking out into the horizon of Detroit, you found that you were finally able to shut your mind up, even if only for a moment. You could see why Markus would like it up here, why he’d chosen _this_ as the spot to talk to you. 

         You heard footsteps and you pulled your gaze away from the low-hanging sun. Sure enough, you found Markus rounding the corner, taking long, deliberate steps towards where you sat. You offered him a smile, watching him as he took a seat on your right. His eyes, glinting green and blue in the morning light, stayed focused on you, pinning you in place effortlessly. You tried to gage his expression, deciphering what he might have to say. You probably knew him better than anyone at Jericho, but even you couldn’t tell what he was going to say now. _Always so damn serious._ Not that you could fault him for that. 

          Whatever he was going to say, you expected that it would be some sort of reprimand. You braed yourself when his lips parted, prepared for a few choice variations of _‘What the hell were you thinking?’_

          “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

          _Oh,_ you couldn’t help but think, _didn’t see that one coming._  

          “I shouldn’t be, but I’m glad.” Your heart settled and jumped at the same time, a strange feeling that you tried to ignore. 

          “Well . . . I’m glad you’re glad,” you smirked, earning a gentle side-eye from the android. It was the sort of exchange you and your friends had, back when the world made sense. Very different circumstances now, but the familiarity put you at ease. It was also enough for you to test the waters; to see how badly you’d pissed him off by coming here. Not _that_ bad, apparently. You let the air between the two of you settle before you spoke again. “They really look up to you. The androids.” You looked back towards the horizon, towards where Jericho sat, unassuming and unimpressive to anyone who didn’t know what was inside. “Simon told me how much you’ve done for them.” 

          Markus shook his head, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, towards the edge you sat on. He let out a huff, letting his eyes drift closed. “I’m not sure if anything I’m doing is helping them at all.” 

         It wasn’t the first time you heard that tone from him. He had sounded unsure before, but there was something more to it now. Like he was weighing options in his head. 

         You wanted to tell him that he was doing everything right, that you had no doubts, but you realized that you couldn’t tell him that and have it be true. You had no idea how any of this was going to play out and neither did he. “They aren’t asking you to be perfect,” you tried, knowing that you were at least heading in the right direction when he looked at you. “They’re asking you to do what you can.” You paused, shrugging. “Although I guess that could be worse . . .” you looked back to Markus, who was giving you a look of pity. “I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this.” 

         “No, not really.” 

         Your eyes went wide, first because of shock. Then because you realized that Markus had just _joked_ with you. 

         “ _Hey!_ ” You feigned offense, and Markus cracked a smile, chuckling. His laugh was infectious. For a moment, you forgot that there were hundreds of androids just below you that were fighting for their freedom. You forgot that Markus had been killed and brought back, and that just a few hours ago, you could have been arrested or worse. You were just sharing a laugh with someone you loved, one step away from danger. 

        It was over too soon, leaving you and Markus back in the real world. “What did you want to talk about?” You had put it off long enough. Now that you were on more sure footing, you felt safer finally asking the question. 

         The intense expression that Markus wore so well returned. “Josh and I have a plan.” His words were hesitant. You knew that tone. It was the kind of tone someone used when they were about to propose something dangerous. Non-committal and light, like walking in a room full of trip-wires. Ready to run at any moment if there was a misstep. Ready to write the plan off as foolish at a moment’s notice. “We want to make a statement that we are people, and that all we want is our freedom. We’re going to march in Grand Circus Park.” 

         You nodded. It was all you could think to do. Hundreds of androids storming the streets, demanding freedom from the people who had built them . . . it would get their attention, that much you were sure of. It was the kind of thing you read about in history class. Never once did you imagine that you would be part of such a movement. You never thought that you would be there when history was made. Then again, you imagined that many people across history could say the same. 

        “You don’t sound sure about it,” you observed. 

        Markus shook his head. “No. It needs to happen, humans need to see that we’re willing to take action.” There was something reserved about the way he said it that let you know _something_ wasn’t as certain in his head as he was letting on. 

         “So what’s bothering you?” 

         He paused, collecting his thoughts. “I don’t know what’s going to happen; how they’re going to respond.” He was afraid, you could see it in his eyes. “I want to think that they’ll understand, but there’s no way of knowing.”

         You wished you had an answer for him, but you didn’t. You didn’t know what might happen beyond the feeling in your gut and your lack of faith in people. As far as those instincts went, you could say with some confidence that people would be afraid of Markus and the rest of Jericho. And you knew well what people did when they were afraid. “I don’t know. If they don’t understand . . .” you weren’t sure what to ask. _What are you prepared to do? Would you fight for your cause?_ You settled with something different. “What do you want them to see you as?” 

         Markus didn’t have to think long to come up with his answer. “People.” 

         There was something heartbreaking about the way he said it. Hell, the concept by itself was enough to shake you, but the way Markus’ face contorted, the _heart_ that his voice was full of . . . it made you reach out and take his hand, lacing your cold fingers between his. “Then show them who you are.” Your voice found its strength as you spoke, but the way Markus squeezed your hand took it away just as soon as it came. 

         Green and blue met your gaze, crystallized under the golden light of the morning. All of his focus was on you, sincere and almost reverent. You could never remember Markus looking at you the way he was now. It was the kind of look that accompanied a promise, you realized. The look you might give someone when telling them that you would always have their back, that you would always be there. Markus didn’t say anything like that; he didn’t need to. Your hand in his, warm against the cold November morning was enough. 

         “Thank you,” he hummed, giving you a smile. 

         You shrugged, smiling back at him. “Glad my shitty advice is good for something.” The two of you let your hands slip apart, standing together. You leaned back to stretch your back as you stood, your muscles stiff. “I’m coming with you, by the way. On the march.” 

         Markus didn’t like the idea, that much you could see, but he didn’t speak against it. “I know.” His voice was low, again, his stern look returning. “Just be careful.” 

         You knew he wasn’t talking only about the march. 

         “I always am.” 

         A lie, and not a very good one. 

         -----

         It was funny, how unperceptive people were. Maybe it was that they didn’t want to acknowledge their problems until they become unavoidable. Or maybe it was that they really just didn’t notice when things were changing around them until someone slapped them in the face to wake them up. Either way, no one noticed the growing number of androids walking down the street until there were enough to fill a stadium. 

        Once they did notice, all they could do was stare, dumbfounded. Like Markus and the rest of Jericho had just materialized out of thin air. 

        Then, with an effectively captive audience, the march began. 

        Markus, naturally, was at the front of it all, setting a slow pace for the rest of the androids behind him. His gaze was fixed out in front of him, determined and calm. North and Josh flanked him, and just behind them were you and Simon. It was hard not to feel your chest swell as you walked alongside the androids, a heavy inspiration that you only heard about in stories. 

        But Markus _was_ like something out of a story, beckoning other androids over to him and adding them to the cause. Even when his gaze turned back to you, you found no signs of uncertainty. No fear, no hesitation. He was more beautiful now than he had ever been. As your confidence grew  you picked up your pace, moving closer to Markus. You couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the idiots who pushed him around because they needed someone to be mad at. You hoped that they could see him now, that they could see all of the androids marching for their freedom. 

         Then again, you were sure that almost every camera within range was trained on Markus and the rest of Jericho. People were watching, and not just the ones in Grand Circus Park. 

          You were part of something that the world was watching, and nothing would be the same after it was over. You were doing something that _mattered_ and it was more fulfilling than even the graffitti you had plastered across Detroit. It made you feel powerful, even if it wasn’t _your_ fight. More powerful than you had ever felt in your life.

          Then you heard the wailing of police sirens and that power you felt was gone. 

         One moment they weren’t there and the next you were surrounded. Cruisers blocked you in, pulling up in the middle of the road as you turned out of the shopping mall. The unmistakable sound of a helicopter blasted through the air, stirring up your hair as it flew overhead. The SWAT trucks followed, and from them spilled dozens of men in riot gear. Shields up, guns fixed on the androids. On you. _Shit shit shit shit._

        Your breath caught in your throat. 

        You came to a stop, aware only of Markus and Josh on either side of you, and that there were guns pointing at you. Markus looked over at you, his eyes softening for just a moment before he looked back towards the barricade of SWAT officers. 

         “We came here to demonstrate peacefully, and tell humans that we are living beings.” You had no idea how he was staying so calm. You could feel your heart hammering, like it was ready to explode at a moment’s notice. The voice that answered didn’t help. 

         “This is an illegal gathering. Disperse immediately or we will open fire.” 

         Suddenly, you snapped to attention, the threat of death catching your focus. _Why? Would they really gun down a group of unarmed protestors?_ You knew the answer, deep down, and it filled you with just as much rage as fear. They didn’t see the androids as people, so what guilt was there in murdering them? 

         “We’re not looking for confrontation.” Still, Markus’ voice was steady. “We've done no harm. We have no intention of doing any, but know that we are not going anywhere until we have secured our freedom.” 

         You knew the answer before you heard it, but it still made dread  coil in the pit of your stomach.Another assurance of death if Markus held his ground. Give up or die, those were the choices being laid out for him. 

          North was the first to speak against those choices. “Markus, they’re gonna kill us. We have to attack! There’s more of us, we can take them!” 

          “If we attack, we’ll start a war.” Josh’s voice was full of urgency. “We have to show them that we’re not violent. We should just stand our ground, even if it means dying here.” 

        You couldn’t think. Or rather, you were thinking too much. There were too many possibilities going through your head, too many thoughts to sort through them all. You didn’t realize that Simon was looking at you, concerned. You were barely able to hear his words. “Dying here won’t solve anything.” He said. Your eyes remained fixed on the guns in front of you. “Markus, we need to go before it’s too late.” 

         “No!” You weren’t even aware that you’d spoke until the androids around you turned to face you. “We can’t run. This will all be pointless if you do.” It was the truth. People respected strength. Something had to be done. 

         No matter how much you wanted to run, you found it in yourself to stay planted on the ground.

         It was strange, knowing that your life or death could hinge on what Markus said next. God, you could never remember being so afraid, like every nerve in your body was being pulled on. Where you felt untouchable before, you now felt like glass. Too easy to break. You saw some of the riot shields lower to the ground, guns moving in to replace them. You heard the man on the other side of the street yell again, his words lost to the static in your head. You were focused on Markus. This was it. The time to decide was now. 

         “We have to show them we won’t back down.” Your throat tightened and you forced yourself to keep  your eyes on Markus. _Don’t look death in the eye_. “We stay right here.” 

         You had heard gunshots in movies. You’d heard them off in the distance, a decently common occurrence in the neighborhood you grew up in. You had a gun pointed at you for the first time just hours ago. None of that prepared you for the _pops_ of machine gun fire, or the soft sounds of those bullets hitting flesh. It yanked you out of your body, an effort to protect yourself with no other way left to you. You saw androids fall behind you, blue blood spilling onto the white snow. 

         You could run. You knew you could save yourself, turn and never come back. You could have run, but you didn’t. In the moment, you couldn’t say what kept you in place as the guns went off in front of you. There was too much going on around you to piece out your thoughts. 

         Your breathing quickened. Your muscles went rigid. 

_I’m going to die._

 A hand wrapping around your own stopped everything. You looked down, finding Markus’ fingers entwined with yours, just the way they had been this morning,  a world away. He didn’t look back at you, but it was enough to know that he was there. You found some strength in that, in knowing that you weren’t alone. You hoped he did too . . .

_I should have told him._

        Josh tried to reassure him as the androids fell. “We have to make a statement. We have to stay put no matter what.” 

        “Please Markus, we can’t let them slaughter us without fighting back!” You wanted to agree with North. You _did_ agree with her. This was wrong. Innocent androids were dying for no reason, and more were about to. _You shouldn't have to just stand there and take it, Markus._ You’d told him that, not too long ago. 

        “We’re not moving.” Markus’ words were like law, and everyone stayed still. Even as another round of gunfire went off. Even as you flinched, waiting to see if a bullet was intended for you. 

        “Markus! What are you doing? They’re gonna kill us all!” North almost begged. 

        She was right. You didn’t think that they would be taking any prisoners today. As far as they were concerned, the deviants were just a bunch of machines going haywire. And you were going to die with them. 

         _Those cops better be damn good shots._ You wanted it to be quick. It probably wouldn’t be. You had never been lucky in that respect. You’d been unlucky enough to be born to a family with three other kids, and not enough money to put one of them through college. You’d been unlucky enough to be saddled with a boss that didn’t give two shits about your well-being. You’d been unlucky enough to fall in love with an android who would never know how you felt because you’d both be dead in a few moments. Your last heartbeats. You held onto Markus like a lifeline, like he was the only thing keeping you anchored to the world. 

        You risked one final look around. You saw Josh at your side, trying himself to look brave and doing a far better job of it than you were. You saw North, angry as ever but afraid too. A person, just like you, who didn’t want to die but was willing to. 

        When you looked at Simon, he met your eyes. He had wanted to run. He didn’t want to die, either, and he’d stayed. When he looked back at you, there was something strengthening in his gaze. 

        There were worse ways to go, you supposed. Worse ways than holding hands with the man you loved, fighting for something that you believed in. Martyrdom always looked so good in the books. You had never expected to experience it first-hand. That was a trend today, it seemed. 

        You stood, ready to see if all the stories about heaven were true. You turned forward again, letting your eyes drift closed. Then, you felt Markus’ hand slip out of yours. 

        Your eyes snapped open, and you watched Markus step forward. Everything around you - the guns, the snow, the chaos - stopped. 

       As Markus walked forward, the world waited for him to make a move. 

       He could have attacked, and you thought that he might for a moment. Instead, he stopped in the middle of the two groups, standing still. You realized what he was doing too late, your eyes going wide. “Markus!” You screamed, and it felt like the world had deafened itself to you. 

        The next thing you heard was gunshots and then Markus fell backwards, blue blood splattering into the air. 

        You couldn’t move. 

        The androids behind you scattered, running into the street where you’d come from. You stayed still, watching Markus hit the ground. Some of the SWAT team closed in, the others continuing to fire into the crowd. You could almost forget the bullets that flew through the air, or that you might be shot at any moment. Instead, you were focused on your friend, lying motionless in the street. _No. No no no no no please no._  

         He couldn’t be dead. 

         You wouldn’t let him be dead. 

         Not again.

         His eyes fluttered open, and you held your breath. He was alive, but with the SWAT team closing in, you knew that he wouldn’t be for long if you didn’t do something. 

          _Move._

_Save him._

_Move. Move!_

_God damn it MOVE-_

        You didn’t see the android until he landed the first blow against the officer. He smashed against the SWAT team with a precision and grace you could never match. It shocked you into action, and you were running, ignoring the sound of gunfire around you. “Markus!” you called his name, but he didn’t hear you, his attention on the android that had rushed in to save him. You didn’t look up, even as you heard the sound of police batons swinging into flesh. “Come on, Markus!” you urged, dragging him back with all your strength. He finally seemed to get his bearings and looked up to you, eyes wide. 

         He looped his arm around you, staring at you for a split-second like he had never expected to see you again. 

         “Quick! They’re coming!” You bared your teeth as you helped to lift Markus, looking back at the SWAT team, trying to see if they were following. Instead, you found the android lying beaten on the ground. Half of his face was missing, a mess of blue and grey. Dark eyes looked back at Markus as you pulled him to his feet. Then, they looked to you and held your gaze. You had never seen this android before, didn’t even know his name. It didn’t make it any easier to watch a gun be lined up over him, or his acceptance that this was his end. 

         You looked away just as the trigger was pulled, running as fast as you could with Markus leaning against you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well . . . there's nothing like getting shot with the person you're in love with.
> 
> I had a crazy week this week so I didn't have as much time to proofread. If anyone sees any errors, please let me know! Otherwise, thank you again for reading!


	9. Skin of Steel, Heart of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The march has changed everything, for the world, for androids and for you. You throw yourself into helping them as best you can, distancing yourself from Markus in the process. In doing so, both of you make some realizations about what you mean to each other.

        You would never get used to watching Lucy repair androids. It was partially due to your very limited understanding of how androids were put together; you knew there were biocomponents and wires and blue blood, but you didn't know how it all worked. You had a feeling that that would change the longer you stayed at Jericho. In the hours that you had been there, you had already watched biocomponents be replaced on two androids; been covered in blue blood from two individuals.    

          Watching Simon being repaired was much easier than Markus, though. 

          Maybe that was why the whole process made you so uncomfortable; you were watching your friend be put back together. Your friend who had decided that his life wasn't worth protecting. 

           Simon must have seen your expression. “He’s going to be alright,” he tried to reason. You only nodded, thankful for Simon’s presence and wishing he would leave you alone all at the same time. He had been the one to help you carry Markus back to Jericho. He’d also been the one to check to make sure that you were alright when you finally found your way back. He’d brought you a change of clothes, ones that weren’t stained with Markus’ blood. You appreciated that much, you really did, but he couldn’t distract your thoughts for too long. Not now.

           Markus didn't flinch when Lucy used a hot metal rod to seal his wounds up, bringing with it the faint smell of burning plastic and a chemical you couldn't place. He hadn't flinched when the police opened fire, or when he stepped between the guns and you.  _ How was he not afraid?  _

          You had been asking yourself that question since you returned, once your brain finally stopped worrying about other things. Things like whether Markus would live or die, or how many of those bullets might have been meant for you. You should have been counting your lucky stars that you hadn't died today, thanking every god known to man that you were still standing. 

          Instead, you were pissed. 

          Pissed at the world for being the way it was, pissed at Markus for almost leaving you again, and pissed at yourself for standing there while the guns fired. You finally understood the saying about a deer in the headlights. There's not much you can do but wait when you're staring down death. Wait and see if today is the day. 

           “We’re all over the news. The people that were there are talking about the march, they know that we were there to protect our freedom.” Josh sounded like he was trying to convince himself of something. Maybe he was; maybe he was trying to convince himself that the cost was worth the effect. You weren’t so sure. You didn’t know how many had been killed - you had been in no state of mind to count. You just knew that androids were dead now, and for what? To make a statement? 

          North, who remained on the opposite side of the room from you, seemed to share at least part of your thoughts. “We didn’t  _ protect _ anything. They slaughtered us.” 

        They had been going on like this for a while now, weighing the consequences of the march. You didn’t speak up. You had no inclination to, for once. Instead you stayed pressed against the wall, trying your best to avoid attention - a familiar, safe action. It worked for a while, with only Simon so much as glancing at you during the discussion between the Jericho leaders. _Don’t let them see how weak you are._ _Don’t let them know that you’re afraid._ It was more than a matter of pride. This, for you, was about belonging there with them. Simon had snuck through a towerful of security guards and come out alive. North and Josh were willing to die for their cause, and Markus nearly _had_. You knew going in that there would be danger, you told yourself that you would be ready for it. _Don’t break now. Don’t let them see you break. Grow up._

__  You felt yourself numbing, quieting the memories of gunfire as the world around you lost focus.  _ Do better next time. Don’t hesitate. Don’t flinch. Don’t fear. _

         “We had to make a stand, and we did. It’s up to the humans how they’re going to respond.” A much too calm voice broke your concentration. It was during this process of turning yourself to steel that Markus sat up, his injuries dealt with. His eyes swept the room and just like that, you were no longer invisible. You supposed you should have learned some time ago that you could only avoid Markus’ attention for so long. 

        You met his gaze, but broke it just as quickly as it came. If anyone could read you in that room, it was Markus. He would know that something was wrong, and he would ask about it. There were much bigger things to worry about, so you looked away.  There was a pause, but you eventually felt his eyes move away from you, some of your tension going with him. 

        “We have to deal with our wounded,” Josh began, not the first time he’d brought the issue up. 

        Simon nodded. “And we have to see to the androids that are arriving. More are coming every hour from across the city.”

        “They won’t make it far.” North’s words had a bite that you couldn’t ignore. “After today the police are going to be looking for us. They’re going to hunt down any deviants they can find.” 

        Finally, a knowing silence took the room. Even Lucy remained still, processing North’s words. “We’ll do what we can for them. North,” Markus so easily took command, looking to her, “see if you can find some of them and get them here.” 

        North nodded, taking that as her que to leave. 

        Against your better judgement, you followed. Even when you saw Markus turn to you like he was about to say something, you kept your head forward. You couldn’t stand still anymore. You needed to move, to do something. And you knew just what. 

        “North, wait,” you said when you were a fair distance away from Markus and the others. 

        The android turned to face you slowly, her pretty eyes fixed on you in a familiar suspicious stare. “What do you want?” She sounded more annoyed than anything else. A step up from wanting to kill you on sight, you supposed. 

        “I want to help.” No use in beating around the bush.  

        North had always impressed you with her ability to deepen a glare. She narrowed her eyes, but let you continue.   

        “I know the city, I grew up here. If you find androids that need help getting here, I can get out there and bring them back. It’ll look a lot less suspicious if a human is with them than if they’re on their own.” It wasn’t an iron-clad plan. In fact, you weren’t even sure if it was a logical one. If you were asked for your registration of an android, you’d be fucked. Still, you had to do  _ something _ . If this was it, then so be it. “I can get biocomponents, blue blood, changes of clothes, whatever you need.”

        North thought about your words, crossing her arms. If her scowl was any indication, she didn’t like the idea very much. She also wasn’t saying no. 

        When she finally did speak, she surprised you with just how much power she had. “You didn’t have to come with us today. You defended Markus, so I’m choosing to trust you.”  _ Don’t make me regret it, _ was what she didn’t need to say. Still, you were relieved, though you didn’t show it. “So, let’s see what we can find for you to do.” 

        -----

        You were no stranger to not getting enough sleep. You had worked two jobs since you graduated high school, and that meant several late nights and early mornings, and lots of coffee in between. You would have  _ killed _ for a coffee now, you thought as you carried in another box of blue blood. Then again, with how your steps were beginning to shuffle against the metal floor of the ship that made up Jericho, you weren’t sure that coffee was the right solution to your problem. 

_ Shake it off, people need you. _

        Besides, even if you wanted to, sleeping wasn’t an option.

        Markus had recruited hundreds of androids to his cause. Jericho was bustling, even at night. A byproduct of androids not needing sleep like you did. It was hard to feel useful next to them sometimes, but you did your part. Years of being a fly on the wall meant you had become good at hearing things. You made it your job to know what everyone needed when they needed it. If word was brought in of androids needing to be escorted here, you went out into the snow to bring them back. If they were running low on thirium or biocomponents, you slipped out in the night to find some. 

        Such had been the case tonight, too many androids who had just barely managed to escape with their lives that needed to be treated. Even with all of the supplies Markus had collected before you arrived, it had quickly become stretched thin by the influx of androids pouring in every day. North had been coordinating your efforts, and you swore that every time you returned she hated your existence a little less.

        As she was nowhere to be found currently, you found yourself heading to another of the inner circle to deliver supplies.  

        “Josh,” even your voice was tired as you neared the android. He looked surprised to see you. “I got the Thirium you needed.” You gestured with the box, setting it down and finally giving your aching shoulders a rest. 

        Josh almost smiled, but it didn’t make it past the look of concern he gave you. You liked Josh, since he was one of the first to seem like he actually trusted you at Jericho. Still, he didn’t exactly approve of your latest choices in activity. “Where did you get this?” he asked, lifting the box top to examine the packets inside. 

        “CyberLife store. There was a truck being unloaded outside, I snagged a few things.” You left out the fact that you had gotten the tip from North. 

        Josh looked like he wanted to shake his head, but he held it in. Instead, he chose a more tactful approach. “Does Markus know about this?” 

        The big question. One you didn’t want to answer but you would nevertheless. “No,” you murmured, watching Josh’s expresion fall. In truth, you hadn’t spoken to Markus since the march, both because he needed to be repaired and because . . . well you weren’t ready to unbox everything yet.

        You half expected Josh to reprimand you, or tell you how stupid it was to go out without telling anyone. Instead, he just grimaced and nodded.  _ Oh come on, that’s almost worse, _ you thought. It made you feel less like a badass vigilante and more like a reckless girl. Closer to the truth, you supposed. That’s what you had always been. “He wants to see you, you know. He’s been asking where you are.” That pushed your guilt over the edge. You didn’t  _ want _ to avoid him, but there was too much going on in your head that you hadn’t been able to sort out yet. “Thank you for everything you’re doing,” Josh began, and you already knew there was a  _ but _ coming, “but be careful. Things are getting bad out there.” 

         “I know,” you agreed. And you did know. You had seen the raids being conducted, the androids who were being rounded up in the streets, or worse. It was the reason you’d been going out more frequently, trying to help as much as you could before it  became impossible. That, and the nagging guilt in your stomach. The guilt over watching Markus lie there in the snow- “I’ll be careful,” you reassured him, though you didn’t fully believe yourself. 

        Josh seemed satisfied though, giving you a half-smile. “Get some rest,” he offered before turning and walking away, taking your stolen goods with him. It was sound advice that you sincerely intended on taking. Eventually. 

         For the moment, you decided to busy yourself helping the androids still in need of repair following the march and those who had recently arrived. You were no expert on their biology - in fact saying that you had any skill might be overstating things - but you could help those who did know and you readily did so. Sometimes it was with matters as simple as finding them a change of clothes. Other times, you would find your arms painted with blue blood as you tried to help other androids piece their friends back together. You usually didn’t have to go far to find someone who needed your help. Tonight was no different, and you were soon showing a pair of deviants to the “medical” staff on hand. Too generous a term, maybe, but it was what they had to work with. 

        Lucy gave you one of her ethereal thank you’s after you helped her close their wounds, and you headed back out into the mass of androids that had taken to calling Jericho home. Refugees from war, all in bad shape, one way or another. All looking for hope, for a better future than the shit lives they’d had so far. 

        Tonight, it was relatively quiet, except for the news projections that lined the walls. Quiet murmuring filled the hull, several androids hiddling closer together as they spoke. You listened to some of them as you passed, looking for the next group that might need help. Most were just scared, needing a comforting word or two. Your less than note-worthy comforting skills had seen a lot of use since the march, trying to tell androids to chin up, that it would all be worth it when Markus won. 

         And you made sure that you said  _ when _ . You didn’t know much, but you knew that a little white lie was what these people needed. A little bit of hope to keep them going, whether it be you, or Markus or whatever rA9 was. Hope was what was going to get them through this. 

         You could use some of it yourself. 

         “You need to get some rest, little one.” A soft voice pulled your attention and you stopped. You turned to your side and found a little girl sitting against CyberLife crates. Looming far above her was a huge man, gentle despite his considerable size. He brushed some hair out of her face in a loving gesture, smiling kindly at her. 

          "I'm not tired," the little girl murmured, and the man gave her a knowing look.  _ He's not convinced. _

          "Alice," his tone reminded you of your father. The sort of thing you would hear when you 'pushed the envelope'. Thinking of him brought a sinking feeling. He and your mother had long since moved out of Detroit. Them and all of your siblings. You were the only one that had stayed, the only one left. You hadn't spoken to any of them in days. Hadn't told them you were alright, much less that you were part of a revolution. With your phone stashed somewhere in Ferndale, it was entirely possible that they had tried to reach you but couldn't. 

          Not that you would be able to really tell them much.  _ Oh, I'm doing fine. Made some paintings, joined a revolution for android rights and almost got shot a few times. Otherwise, not much. _

         No, best not to tell them until everything blew over. 

_ If _ everything blew over. 

          You were just about to let yourself be caught in a spiral of self-pity when the man's voice dragged you out of your thoughts. "Can I help you?" You hadn't realized you were staring until he spoke. You blinked, collecting yourself and meeting his eyes. He looked at you with no small amount of suspicion, trying to figure out if you were going to be a threat to the little girl.  _ Alice _ , as you recalled. 

         “I’m sorry,” you tried, not really knowing what to say. “Just . . . got a lot on my mind.” It was true enough, you supposed. The man seemed to accept your answer, though his eyes stayed trained on you. “Actually, do either of you need anything? I can find her some blankets or something.” You offered a tired smile to Alice, who shrunk further into her caretaker’s shadow. 

          Finally, something softened in the man’s eyes. “That would be wonderful.” 

          You nodded, your new directive in mind. “I’ll be right back.” You knew exactly where to find blankets. You had been given some when you first arrived, and since you likely weren’t going to put them to use tonight, you might as well make sure  _ someone _ did. It didn’t take you long to grab the blankets in question and return, weaving through groups of androids on your way. When you got back, Alice was still sitting on the CyberLife crates, hugging her knees to her chest. The tall android sat next to her, his mouth moving though you couldn’t make out what he was saying until you drew closer. When you did, you heard the soft melody of a song you recognized. It was another relic that you only knew because of your parents - or grandparents, in this case. The kind of song that most people your age didn’t know.

          “ _...sing on, just a little while longer. Everything will be alright _ .” He wasn’t the first android you had heard sing that song, but there was something insanely on-the-nose about it that it hardly surprised you. The man’s voice was beautiful, full of soul and love. Alice looked like she was finally relaxing as he sang, staring up at him in adoration. When he finished, you stepped closer. “That’s a good song,” you offered.  He looked up at you as you stepped closer, smiling warmly as you handed him the coarse blankets. 

          “Thank you,” he said, draping them over Alice.

          You shrugged in return. “It was no problem.”

          He held out a hand - one that dwarfed your own. “I’m Luther.” You took his hand and introduced yourself, surprised again by how gentle he was. 

          “You’re human, aren’t you?” It was a question that you were surprised you hadn’t heard more often. It would have been fairly evident given any facial scan that you weren’t an android like everyone else in Jericho. Still, not many androids had actually asked. 

          You nodded, glad that the scrutiny in his eyes was gone. 

         “It’s a good thing; you being here. If people had less hate for each other, the world would be a better place.” 

         His words were more weighted than he realized, at least to you. You, who had been - and still were - so angry at the world.  _ He’d get along with Carl, _ you thought. They’d be able to spend hours dishing out wise one-liners to each other. “There are lots of things that would make the world a better place,” you said, wryly.  

         “I think that every little bit counts. Knowing you’re not alone can make everything else easier.” There was something reassuring about his words, something that told you he chose them for a specific reason. A reason he couldn’t have known.  _ I gotta go see Markus. _

         “I guess you’re right.” You looked down at Alice, who was settling in with your blanket. You didn’t need to ask to know that both Luther and Alice had been through a lot. If there was one truth that the androids of Jericho shared, it was that each one had gone through something horrible. You just hoped that, by the end of all this, they were able to live a better life. That was all anyone could really ask for. “If you need anything else, come find me.” 

         Luther nodded. “Take care of yourself.” 

         “You too.” 

         The two of you shared a nod, and you were off, heading towards the conversation that you’d been avoiding all day.  _ Conversation or confrontation, _ you weren’t sure. Either way, it was long overdue. 

        You weren’t the only one who thought so, it seemed. 

        The crowd parted and you knew Markus was heading your way before you saw him. When he finally came into view, you were surprised by how well he looked.  If you hadn’t been there, you would never have known that he had been shot, that he had almost died. 

         He had swapped his blue hoodie out for a longer white coat, and he walked like he was on a mission. The way his eyes zeroed in on you, you had a feeling you knew what that mission was.

        “Hey,” you greeted, not doing a good job of hiding your apprehension. 

        “Can we talk?” he asked, and there was something in his voice that let you know this was about something very serious.  _  Oh boy, here we go. _

        “Sure,” you murmured, pushing your worry down. 

        You followed Markus through the corridors of Jericho, ducking under bulkheads as you went. Neither of you spoke, but you couldn’t remember silence ever sounding so loud. Probably had something to do with the thoughts pounding against your skull. When you finally stopped, you were in an abandoned room, nothing inside but rust and some long-unused crates. 

         Markus turned around, facing you at last. He looked worried, but more than that he looked sad. It made your heart squeeze, because you knew that you were at least partially to blame for that look. “What’s going on?” you asked, trying your best to sound clueless. You might have made a more convincing effort, given different circumstances. 

       He didn’t answer. Instead, he said your name, grave and serious but with so much concern that it hurt. “I could ask the same of you.” 

       And just like that, the iron wall you’d put up around yourself began to crack. “I . . .”  _ what did he expect you to say? _

        “Josh told me that you went out tonight to get biocomponents.” 

_ Oh. _

_          Damn it, Josh. _

        You couldn’t deny it, not when Josh had probably brought the proof straight to Markus. North probably wouldn’t be shy about admitting that she’d been the one giving you some of your tips. “Snitches get stitches, Josh,” you muttered, even if he wasn’t there to hear you. Markus didn’t look amused. 

        “That’s not the only time you’ve done this, is it? Why didn’t you tell me?” There was an urgency behind his words that ground guilt into your stomach. 

        You weren’t sure how to even begin handling that question. There was no easy answer, no way of telling him the truth without getting into things you had every intention of hiding away. “I . . .”  _ didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want to talk to you because that makes it all real. I couldn’t look at you because I’d break if I did. _ “I figured you didn’t need to know.” God, it was a bad lie, but what else could you say? Your throat was already constricting, the thoughts that you’d been pushing down all day finally coming back with a vengeance. 

        “I don’t  _ need _ to know. I want to.”

        “I can handle myself.” 

        “I know, but if something were to happen to you-”

        “You don’t get to make that argument.” You hadn’t meant to say it, but that didn’t stop the words from coming out, and they found their mark. He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. He just gaped at you, mismatched eyes wide, processing everything you were saying. You couldn’t blame him. Normally, you might have been yelling but now your voice was cold. Your words were sharp and you aimed to cut with them. “You put yourself in danger  _ every day _ , and you don’t say shit to me. I thought you were dead and I had to find out that I was wrong  _ on the news. _ And when I get you back, you almost die again. You were going to let them kill you!” 

          “I did what I did so that the rest of you could live.” When he finally spoke up, you were surprised to find some fire in his words, and almost immediately you felt a wave of  _ terrible _ wash over you. Your words came back to bite you as he spoke, leaving you feeling even more guilty than when you started. 

         “I know but I almost watched you die, Markus!” There it was. The dam giving way. “I saw you get shot and I couldn’t do shit about it.” Your voice wavered, but you didn’t care anymore. Not with the way Markus was looking at you. “I was too afraid to do anything about it.” Your admission was quiet, and with it came all of the stress that you had been ignoring. Your breath quivered as it left you, and you looked down when you felt tears sting your eyes. 

         You heard Markus taking steps towards you, slow and deliberate. You looked up at him, finding him dangerously close to you. “I was afraid too.”  His eyes let you know that it was the truth. They shined against the dark, full of emotion and you realized how wrong you had been. 

        Markus was the first to move, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace that was familiar to you now. Somehow, that made it all the worse, breaking down the carefully constructed barriers you’d put up. You might as well have been strangling him, with how tightly you wrapped your arms around him. Crying was becoming a habit of yours, you realized. First with Carl, now with Markus. It went against everything you had grown up believing, but with everything that was happening . . . maybe that was alright. Maybe it was alright to not be made of fire all the time. 

        You certainly didn’t feel like fire when Markus held you. You felt safe, loved. Wanted. It was something you had been without for so long, you convinced yourself that you didn’t need it. You were glad that he was there to remind you otherwise, the thought slowing the fall of your tears. “You’re getting pretty good at this hugging thing.” You found it in yourself to laugh, your face pressed into Markus’ shoulder. 

        “I did promise to work on it.” 

        You grinned, feeling the rumble of his chest as he spoke. His voice sounded as shaky as yours, something that eased your mind more than it probably should have. It also put you back on a more even footing, bringing your mind back to sense. “I’m sorry,” you finally admitted, not feeling the need to elaborate. 

        “So am I.” Markus answered you with sincerity, his arms tightening ever so slightly. 

        You shook your head. “You saved my life. I should have thanked you.” You finally pulled apart - although with the closeness the two of you maintained, maybe that was too generous a term. Pressure built up in your chest, and a new kind of hurt took over. The same hurt you had felt all those nights ago when Markus sang to you. The difference was, back then it was an impossibility. You had resigned yourself to being alone in your feelings because you couldn’t fathom an android having feelings at all. Now, with the way Markus’ arms stayed on you . . . it almost hurt more because it  _ was _ possible. 

        “I’m sorry for not going to you that night.” He didn’t need to tell you which night he was talking about. The night when all of this began, when you got a call from Carl telling you that your friend was dead. “I meant to, but I couldn't. I was afraid then, too.” 

        You tried to smile, but you didn’t quite make it. “Lots of that going around, I guess.”  Markus nodded, frowning. “You do a much better job of hiding it than I do, though.” 

        Markus sighed, finally stepping away. Your spirit dropped at the loss of contact, but you knew that he had a lot on his mind. Hell, both of you did. “If I show how afraid I am, it makes it harder for them to believe that we can win. And if they don’t believe, then we’re lost.” Androids were built to be perfect, from what you understood. Designed to never make mistakes, never get tired and never feel. That didn’t stop Markus from sounding  _ spent _ . “It might not matter either way.” He kept his voice low, like he was hiding something he was ashamed of. 

         It occurred to you that he probably hadn’t told anyone about any of this. He couldn't afford to; the androids outside revered him as a savior. Who could he speak to - outside his inner circle, maybe - about the doubts he had? 

        He was like you in that way, except the thing that prevented him from reaching out was necessity, not pride. You knew from experience how hard it was to keep yourself going against all odds. Having someone in your corner  _ could _ make all the difference in the world. 

        You let your head drop down looking at the floor as you thought. You’d been running around Jericho, trying to give the androids there some hope. The least you could do was offer the same to Markus. You remembered Luther and Alice, the gentle song he had been singing. You remembered the night Markus sang to you, the parting words you’d given him at Carl’s door, and you decided then on your chosen method. 

        It was time to deliver on your promises, you supposed. Another something that was long overdue. 

        If you hadn’t shown many people your artwork, you had sung for even fewer; you didn’t think enough of your skills to sing for anyone but yourself. It was a part of you that you hadn’t assigned much meaning to.  _ Time to change that, _ you told yourself _. _

        Moving as quietly as you could, you made your way to Markus’ side, keeping your gaze on the floor in front of you but intertwining your fingers with his. You started softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you sang the song Luther had sung to Alice. It was strange for you, doing something so soft and gentle. You were so used to swinging your way through life, bloody knuckles and furious stares. You were out of your element, but you forced yourself to sing, even if it meant keeping your voice quiet. 

**“Hold on just a little while longer.**

**Hold on just a little while longer.**

**Hold on just a little while longer.**

**Everything will be alright.**

**Everything will be alright.”**

        As the first words left your mouth, Markus’ attention snapped to you. You couldn’t help but glance up at him, getting caught in his stare. He looked . . . happy. Like you had just given him the most precious gift in the world.  You couldn’t help but smile as you sang, realizing why.  _ He remembered your promise.  _

_          Of course he fucking did.  _

        -----

        Markus had heard the androids around Jericho singing plenty of times. It was, more often than not, a sad melody that spoke of suffering and loss. Your voice, despite its softness, was of strength and reassurance. 

        He had never expected to hear you sing. It was one of his desires that he had long since written off, just an idea from another life that could never be real. He had never imagined that he would get to hear your voice. For a time, he had imagined that he would never even see you again. But here you were, your hand in his, singing for him and only him. 

       When he met your eyes, something snapped in him, a shattering realization. It was like he was deviating all over again, the world around him re-calibrating and re-adjusting as he finally realized what he had been pressing against his mind. The difference was that when he deviated, he had woken up to a world of confusion. 

        Now, looking at you as you sang, he had never thought more clearly in his whole life. 

_ I’m in love with her. _

        As you sang, he repeated the words over and over in his mind, testing them because he had never thought to experience something like this. The puzzle had finally come together; the reason his chest tightened when he thought of you, the reason he had thought first of you when the police had opened fire. He watched you sing, taking in every detail he could and saving it so he would never forget. The confidence that grew the longer you sang, the way your eyes sparkled in the dim light. A smile spread across his face, a harsh contrast to the almost pained feeling in his chest. 

        You were tearstained, exhausted and nervous and you were beautiful. He had always thought so, even before he deviated. The thought was just louder now, the feeling more intense. 

        As you finished the song Markus stayed silent, letting your voice hang in the air.  The two of you were close, so incredibly close, Markus could feel the air shifting as you breathed. He wanted more than anything to close the distance. Uncertainty kept him from doing so, a thin line that the very air pressed him to cross. Your eyes glimmering, your hand warm in his, your uncertain smile. The tightening in his chest worsened when he saw your pupils dilate.  _ Did you- _

       Markus never finished the thought. Your lips pressing against his stopped the world from turning. 

       It was too quick, with you pulling away almost as soon as the kiss started. But for that moment Markus felt as alive as he ever had. It was one action and it had lasted only seconds, but it was enough to let Markus know that he wasn’t alone. He never had been. 

       Still, he had been too surprised to react - likely the reason you were looking at him in terror. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, but you didn’t get to say anything more. It was Markus’ turn to be impulsive, closing the distance and kissing you again. His free hand went to your face, gently swiping his thumb across your cheekbone, his other hand staying intertwined with yours. An anchor to the world, a tether keeping him from being lost. 

_ I love you, _ he marveled over and over, memorizing the feeling of your body pressed against his. The feeling of your heartbeat against his chest. 

      When you broke away, chest rising and falling as you breathed, Markus smiled. You smiled back, huffing a disbelieving laugh. Markus’ smile widened and he rested his forehead against yours, allowing himself to forget the world. He let himself have that moment of peace, just the two of you in the eye of a storm. Two people in a place where they didn’t have to fight to survive, or wish to be heard. It hurt that Markus knew that this moment wouldn’t last long enough. The world was waiting for both of you, and it wouldn’t wait long. Still, Markus was content to hold you for a little while longer. 

       Both of you were owed that much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ABOUT DAMN TIME (She says, having been in full control of when these two dorks finally kiss)
> 
> Anyway, I wanted to draw some parallels to when MC (The Reader) realized her feelings for Markus. Both of them are kind of learning how to accept feelings like that (albeit in different ways and for different reasons), so I figured what better way for Markus to really realize what's going on than to hear the MC sing? Also, good way to bring my man Luther into the story - Kara will be making an appearance later, as well. If any of you haven't already, definitely go check out Luther singing "Hold On" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VI-niZcJzog) the man has a beautiful voice.


	10. Survival Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you’d learned anything in life, it was that the quiet, peaceful moments didn’t last long.

        “At least try to get some sleep.” Markus finally advised, once you reached your makeshift room. He’d been insisting for a while now, trying to get you to rest. Your first arguments hadn’t worked; Markus was stubborn on the matter. You had tried to tell him that you weren’t tired - a lie - and that you had given up your blankets anyway. Still, Markus had insisted, walking you back to your corner of Jericho. Almost the whole way, he’d been trying to convince you that you needed to take a break.

        Somehow, you still doubted that sleep was in the cards for you. “I don’t know how I can sleep after that kiss,” you tried to joke. Markus just gave you a _‘Seriously?’_ look, and you finally caved. “I’ll try. You should try getting some rest too, you know.” 

        “I don’t need sleep-”

        You shook your head. “Rest is different than sleep. You _did_ almost die, you know.” You let your words carry a little weight. Your anger was gone, but that didn’t change the fact that watching Markus get shot had scared you. It would be a lie to say that you wanted him to maybe take it easy for a little while. Not that it was really possible to put a revolution on pause. 

        Markus looked like he wanted to rest too, but he still shook his head. “I have to meet with North and the others. Things have been happening since the march . . .” he trailed off, his eyes downcast. 

       “How bad is it?” You already knew part of the answer. You had avoided armed soldiers when you’d gone out to get those biocomponents. The streets had been emptying as the sun went down, and you had to work hard not to be seen on your way back. Still, by the look Markus was giving you, you could tell that there was more. 

        “I’ll know soon.” 

        “What are you gonna do?” 

        Markus thought for a moment, his frown deepening. “I don’t know.” 

        You nodded, understanding that much. There were so many variables, so many ways this could go and you had no idea which path would be the right one. You could only speak to what your instincts were telling you, and your instincts were telling you that things were going to heat up very quickly. Markus might be facing down guns again soon. “If you had to,” you began, your voice low, “would you fight them?” You didn’t need to clarify who _them_ was. 

        The expression on Markus’ face twisted. He was unsure - you could tell before he spoke. “I’ve done everything I can to prevent a war. We want our freedom and lives of our own, not blood on our hands. But what choice do I have?” The anger in his words shouldn’t have surprised you; he had more than enough reason to be angry at humans. It was the fact that it was Markus, the gentle soul who liked playing piano, that surprised you. “Even when we’re unarmed, they gun us down. It’s like they don’t care.”

        “Some do,” you reminded him, taking a step closer. You weren’t just talking about yourself, though. You had seen the news, the interviews being conducted. You knew that there were people out there  who recognized the android’s fight. You also knew that there were more who were afraid of what the revolution might mean. “People can be terrible. It’s what they do best. It’s the ones who try not to be terrible that make life livable,” you said, realizing that you had spent too much time with Carl. Or maybe it was your dad’s influence finally catching up with you. You would be dishing out your own proverbs before too long. Markus smiled a little at your words though, and that made you happy. “Just don’t be afraid to fight for freedom. You have every right to. You shouldn’t have to fight for it in the first place.”  

        Markus considered your words, his eyes locked on yours. He was still torn, you could tell, but the storm behind his eyes had quieted.  “Get some rest,” he urged, his voice low. 

       You grinned. “I’ll do my best. You should too.” You reached up, pressing a teasing kiss against his lips. _God, you loved being able to kiss him._ From his smile, you could tell that the feeling was mutual for Markus. “Goodnight,” you murmured, slipping away into your makeshift room. 

        -----

        Markus was usually quite adept at putting aside his thoughts to focus on the task at hand. It was a quality shared among most androids, albeit less common among deviants who were able to think and feel the way a person might. He supposed that was the reason he couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss the two of you had shared, even after he had walked you back to your makeshift room to leave for a meeting with North, Josh and Simon. 

        He thought about it because some part of him knew that the night had been too forgiving with him. Something told him that whatever happened next would not be so ideal. 

       The news he received during the meeting was bad enough, but it was something that Markus knew how to deal with. He had been expecting that the humans would retaliate. The camps North described were barbaric, but history had seen such things before. Markus wouldn’t let it hinder him. He had expected they would take action against androids and he was ready to fight for his people’s freedom. It was enough that he gave the order to find weapons and prepare for a fight. He didn’t want to watch any more of his people be slaughtered, his faith in humanity was slipping with every day that passed. It was the memory of Carl’s kindness and your kiss that made him pause. You had been right; there were people who saw the injustice being done and wanted it to stop. That didn’t change the fact that most people were afraid, and humans destroy what they fear. It didn’t stop him from telling North to get ready for war.

        He had expected Josh to reprimand him for it. It didn’t make himself hate the choice any less, but he had been ready for that much. Some part of him knew that he couldn’t avoid a confrontation forever. He had expected that he would need to fight back at some point. 

        He hadn’t expected Connor. 

        The deviant hunter had found his mark, though he seemed reluctant to finish the job. Markus had been lucky on that count. He wasn’t sure that it would even be possible for Connor to make the choice to spare him, but he didn’t second-guess it when the RK800 lowered his gun. Markus might have smiled, glad that Connor had managed to choose freedom over servitude. Instead, the RK800’s next words sent him into a panic. 

        “They’re going to attack Jericho.” 

        “What?” Markus demanded, but the sound of helicopters flying overhead was all the answer he needed. They had followed Connor here and they were going to kill everyone inside. Simon, North, Josh, _you_ . . .

        “We have to get out of here!”

        Markus didn’t need to be told twice. He started to run even before Connor did, dashing across the deck of the freighter and down into the ship below. 

        For a moment, he was like a machine again. He had directives again, orders given to himself that he could not fail. 

_Protect your people._

_Protect your friends._

_Protect the woman you love._

        -----

        If you’d learned anything in life, it was that the quiet, peaceful moments didn’t last long. 

        You had gone to your “room” with the intention of getting some rest. You _did_ need some sleep, and you had intended to at least try to get some. When you’d finally managed to shut your own brain up and drift off, the world gave you a prompt reminder that it wasn’t going to make things easy for you. 

        At first, you weren’t sure if the gunfire was real or just part of the dream you’d been slipping into. You had certainly been thinking of the march for long enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was just something that you made up in your mind. Still - and luckily enough for you - it was enough to get you to wake up, leaning up from your place against a wall. When you heard screaming that was decidedly real, you suddenly forgot your exhaustion and shot to your feet. 

        When you stepped out of your room and saw the flash of gunfire, you didn’t have time to curse the world. Instead you began running as fast as you possibly could. 

        All around you, androids were running for their lives, shouting at one another in voices drowned out by gunfire. You didn’t know what was going on, your brain scrambled that you lost your idea of where you were on the ship. All you could think to do was follow the androids desperately trying to escape, hoping that they would know the way out if you didn’t. The hallway in front of you split into three paths, and you followed most of the others down the one straight ahead. That plan changed quickly when you saw the harsh glint of a flashlight against the dark. 

       You saw the soldier taking aim and ground to a halt, quickly changing your direction to the left. “This way!” you screamed, trying to get the androids to follow you out of the line of danger. Some did. Some heard or saw you in time to make the adjustment. The ones running just ahead of you weren’t so lucky. There was a spray of gunfire and then they fell, dead before they could even cry out. 

         _Keep running or you’ll be next._  

        You let your instincts take over, leading you through hallways and past groups of soldiers. If someone had asked you what you were thinking at that moment, you wouldn’t have been able to tell them. Your head was empty of anything coherent, thoughts replaced by the need to survive. 

        It wasn’t until you heard a voice calling for mercy that you managed to piece together anything that made sense. 

        You glimpsed her through an open door as you ran past, the sight of her cornered by a lone soldier forcing you to a halt. _There’s only one. His back is turned to me. He won’t see me coming._ The thoughts were passing almost too fast to make sense of them, but you made the realization all the same. You knew you could do something to help her. You had made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t let fear rule you.

        So, throwing caution to the wind, you charged. The soldier had barely turned towards you when you smashed into him with all the force you could manage. He was bigger than you - considerably bigger - but you managed to knock him off balance. He stumbled back but ultimately managed to keep his footing. Then all you could focus on was the gun that he held at the ready. _Fuck fuck fuck_ -

        You latched onto the weapon with  both hands, pulling with all of the strength you had. The soldier grunted, his immediate reaction being to try and throw you off of him. He yanked the gun to the side and it took everything you had not to go flying with the motion. You planted your feet back on the ground, tugging back on the gun with bared teeth. You weren’t surprised when it didn’t really budge. What was surprising when the soldier shifted his weight, pushing you forward. 

        You went down, hitting the ground hard with the soldier bearing down on you. Your breath left you in a heavy, pained groan. Your arms were pressed between the gun and your chest, the soldier using his weight to pin you down. There was no way to tell if the man was looking at you with pity or death, with his face covered. He looked more like a machine than the androids he was hunting. You realized too late that you may have made a mistake. You eyes went wide as the man reached back to his belt and you saw the dark shape of a handgun come into view. 

         _No no no no no_

You struggled harder, trying to leverage your way out with your legs. You weren’t going to die like this, you weren’t-

       Something slammed into  the soldier above you and you felt the pressure against your arms and chest finally fade. The soldier was on the ground at last, the android you had saved hovering above him. She struggled with him for his handgun, desperately trying to avoid looking down the barrel. You didn’t know how you got to your feet as fast as you did, but in the end it didn’t matter. You took the assault rifle that had been digging into your arm moments ago and swung it as hard as you could into the soldier’s head. When your attack made contact, your arms shook with the force of it and the soldier’s head was knocked to the side. 

       He fell, dropping the gun that had spelled your death. You gaped at the android, a pale woman with dark brown hair and eyes that were too wide, too full of fear. You had saved her life and she had saved yours, buying you the chance you needed to bring the soldier down. You didn’t wait to see if he would get back up. “Come on!” you commanded, grabbing the android’s arm and dragging her back into the hallway. 

       -----

       Markus’ feet slammed against the metal floor as he leapt down the stairs, not stopping for more than a second before he continued to run. He had set a furious pace through Jericho, already having avoided a few groups of soldiers. Connor was able to keep up with ease, matching pace just behind Markus and remaining out of sight just as Markus did. Markus remained on the lookout for any of his people - and for you. 

       North was the first face he recognized. Her eyes widened as she saw the two of them, bringing her run to a halt. “They’re coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold, they’re going to be slaughtered!” 

       “Where are Simon and Josh?” He asked, realizing that the two were nowhere to be seen. 

       North shook her head. “I don’t know, we got separated.” He wasn’t surprised when he asked about you and North’s answer remained the same. 

       “We have to blow up Jericho. If the ship goes down, they’ll evacuate. Our people can escape!” 

       “You’ll never make it! The explosives are all the way down in the hold! There are soldiers everywhere!” 

       “She’s right,” Connor agreed, steady in  his analysis of the situation. “They know who you are, they’ll do anything to get you.” 

       He was right. They both were, but that didn’t change the fact that it had to be done. If this would give his people - and you - a better chance of survival, then that was what Markus would do. “Go and help the others, I’ll join you later.” He nodded to Connor, who seemed to accept his decision. North wasn’t so easily persuaded, but then she rarely was. 

       “Markus-”

       “I won’t be long.” It was the kind of promise that didn’t mean much. Markus was fully aware that he could be heading to his death. He also knew that it didn’t matter. His life against yours and the thousands of androids in Jericho, against Simon’s, North’s and Josh’s . . . there was no comparison to be made. 

       He supposed that you might yell at him for the choice, but that didn’t stop him from taking off into the lower decks, into the belly of the beast. 

       -----

       “This way!” You called out to the androids following you. Your voice was strained against the exertion, your throat raw. Even your lungs burned as you breathed, but you kept running. There was no other option. 

       You could have been running for a minute or an hour, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that you had dodged death more times tonight than at any other point in your life. From the march to now, you almost couldn’t fathom how you had managed to stay alive, how your luck had taken you so far. 

       It was only natural that your luck would eventually run out. 

       Soldiers had caught on to you. They had been picking off your group as you ran, following you no matter how many harsh turns you took. You had eventually split off from the androids, trying to lead the soldiers away. You supposed that had been your first mistake, but you tried not to think of it much as you ran - if you stopped to consider the wisdom of your actions, the soldiers at your heels would catch up. They were persistent bastards, you would give them that much, but you sorely wished they weren’t. You wished that you knew the ship layout better, or that you could run faster. You wished that you hadn’t run smack into a dead end with armed men bearing down on you. 

      “Shit,” you breathed, turning just in time to catch the flare of the soldier’s flashlights. 

      “Don’t move!” one roared, sweeping his gun towards you. You, in that time, checked every wall around you for some door you might have missed or something you might be able to hide behind. There was nothing, just the metal wall on one side of you and the barrels of guns on the other. 

      You’d heard several androids begging for their lives that night, pleading with the soldiers for mercy that you knew would never come. Futility or pride kept you quiet. You balled your fists, your muscles screaming at you to move, to fight until your last breath, but fists wouldn’t do well against guns. Still, you didn’t intend to go down without a fight. 

      You didn’t get the chance to move. 

      You flinched away when the guns went off, bracing yourself for the pain. When none came, you cautiously looked back forward. Four androids were there, taking on the soldiers with a grace and skill that you had only ever seen in action movies. They were outnumbered and unarmed and still they took down the soldiers like it was almost effortless. You stepped forward, smiling in disbelief as you saw the familiar strawberry blond braid of the angriest android you knew. 

       “North!” you called out as she knocked a soldier’s gun back into his own face. She looked back at you and you could have sworn her eyes softened. The last of the soldiers began to fall, one knocked down by none other than Simon. Josh stood beside him, looking more rattled than the rest. The other person with them - wearing a beanie and a leather jacket - you didn’t know. You couldn’t help but marvel at his movements though. Of all four, he moved with the most flair; a measured and precise dance that gave away the fact that he was an android solely because you had never seen a human move like that. He knocked the last soldier down with ease and turned to look at your group, staying back while North and Simon moved forward. 

       Simon rushed to your side, placing his hands on your shoulders as he checked you over. “Are you alright?” 

       “Fine.” It was only partly true. Would any normal person be _fine_ in a situation like this? “Thanks for the rescue,” you said, looking between North and the rest. There was one missing. “Where’s Markus?” You stepped forward, not bothering to hide your urgency. 

       “He’s in the hold. He’s going to detonate the explosives.” North stepped closer, her voice heavy with worry. She must have seen your expression shift, because she steeled her own gaze. “We have to leave.” You knew she was right. No matter how much you wanted to go help Markus, you knew that the odds of actually being able to find him were slim to none. It was more likely that you would die on the way. 

        “Alright,” you nodded. North returned the gesture as you joined her group, breaking into a run as the rest of them did. You only hoped that you would be able to keep up. 

        -----

       Guns went off behind Markus as he ran, every shot fired promising death if it hit the right mark. _I’ve been ordered to take you alive,_ Connor had said. Markus wondered if these soldiers shared the same sentiment. 

        The soldier that cornered him in front of the explosives seemed to have the same directive that Connor had. If he hadn’t, Markus would likely have been dead already. Instead, the soldier ordered him not to move, not firing even as Markus stepped closer to him. It was easy to calculate the man’s next movements, easy to know where to strike that the soldier wouldn’t be able to stop him. 

       Markus knocked the man down with ease, his momentum carrying him as another soldier came through the opposite door. Three to one and the fight was still easy for him. None of the soldiers managed to get a shot in, Markus knocked their weapons away too quickly for that. It was clockwork; moves and countermoves, like the chess games that he and Carl used to play. It was easy to lose himself in it all, so easy when their faces were covered to forget that he was fighting against people. 

       Easy enough that Markus didn’t feel anything at first when he pulled the trigger on one of their guns, the bullet finding its mark in the throat of the soldier who had tried to take him alive. 

       Even as he dropped the gun and moved back to the explosives, he felt numb to it all. He triggered the bombs and backed away, ready to run. The soldier laying motionless down the hallway, blood pooling underneath him almost made him stop. It was a moment’s hesitation, no more than a second or two, but for Markus it felt so much longer. It reminded him of Leo and Carl that night not too long ago. _I killed a man . . ._ he tried to push the thought away, but the soldier remained painfully still. _A man is dead because of me . . ._  

        He ran back up the way he came, fighting the way his mind weighed him down. There was no time for regrets. How many of his people had that soldier killed before he had found Markus? This was _war_. Markus hadn’t wanted it to be, but the choice was made for him. 

        So he ran back through Jericho, through the broken dream of safety that was being torn down around him. 

        Seeing you in the company of North, Simon, Josh and Connor made it easier to think. You were alive. They were all still alive. 

        “Markus!” you called out to him, taking his arm when he got close enough. You were all wide eyes and heaving breaths, your grip tight as you looked him over. You were looking for damage, making sure he was alright. He did the same to you, the two of you checking to see if the other was whole for the quickest of moments. You let go of him, offering him a half-hearted smile that didn’t reach your eyes. 

        “The bomb’s gonna explode any second, we’ve gotta get out of here,” Markus warned, urging you and the rest of the group forward. They ran, Markus following close behind. 

        The air chilled as they moved forward, and the sight of snow ahead of them let Markus know that they were close to a way out. They were close to surviving this . . . 

        Gunfire rang out behind him and Markus stopped just in time to watch North fall. 

        “North!” Markus heard you call out, looking behind you and coming to a halt. The rest of the group followed suit, Simon stepping forward. 

       “It’s too late, Markus. There’s nothing we can do for her, we’ve got to run-”

       He didn’t get to finish his sentence before you were running forward, stooping down to North’s side and trying to pull her up. 

        Markus didn’t wait for his mind to calculate probable outcomes. He just saw two people that he cared for about to come under fire, and he sprang into action. His movement made him a target, and he saw the guns come up to him before he reached you or North. A broken-off piece of a bulkhead became his shield as he moved forward, one that he tossed to North as soon as there was a pause in the gunfire. 

        North swung the slab in front of her and Markus saw you flinch as the bullets hit it. When the fire was drawn away from him, Markus rushed forward, barreling into the soldiers. 

        There were two, both of them charging towards Markus in turn. The first was knocked away and moved towards North. The second decided to stay with Markus. It was over quickly, Markus taking the gun from a soldier and firing a single shot into her chest. Then he heard a cry of pain and all his attention snapped back towards you. You were mid-swing when the butt of the soldier’s gun connected with your cheekbone. 

        Markus saw your back collide with the wall, one hand going to your cheek while the other braced against the metal. The back of your head hit the bulkhead last, the sound of it covered by your own groan.  

        North was quick to dispatch the soldier, swinging the slab of metal into his head. He went down fast, and North moved to your side, almost collapsing herself on her bad leg. Markus made it all the way, looping North’s arm around him before stopping in front of you. Your eyes - squeezed shut against the pain a moment earlier - snapped open and you looked from Markus to North, examining them both. Red marks cut into your cheek, outlining where the bruises would soon be. Still, even with your disoriented gaze and the pained look you wore, you nodded. “I’m fine-” the sound of footsteps down the hallway made your gaze turn. 

         “Run!” Markus grabbed your arm, pulling you and North beside him. He could feel his mind rush, imagining the newly arrived soldiers raising their guns towards you all. He had no way to defend either you or North, no way to-

         He looked forward again and found himself at the end of a pistol barrel yet again, a determined look in the deviant hunter’s eyes. 

         Markus ducked on instinct, bringing you and North down with him to try and evade the android’s shot. He realized the moment after that the shots hadn’t been meant for him as Connor fired into the group of soldiers. Markus took the opportunity given to him, bringing you and North further down the hallway. He looked back towards Connor, his own eyes going wide. He knew that the RK800 would be well-suited to combat, but the lethality with which Connor moved . . . the group was dead or down in a matter of moments. 

        Even so, when more gunfire sounded from down the hallway, Connor retreated. He rejoined the group, North taking her weight off of Markus as the others turned towards the opening in the hull. “Run!” Markus ordered, breaking into a sprint. Josh and Simon jumped first, leaping through the opening and into the air. Connor and North followed as he spoke. “Quick, come on!” Markus looked beside him at you, your expression determined even as you looked out into the snowy night. You looked back at him, just before the two of you reached the edge of the ship before you looked back forward. Together, the two of you jumped just as Jericho went up in flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...On the bright side, everyone is alive.  
> Also on the bright side, I finally got to write something for Connor! Been waiting to showcase that dork!  
> The series is more than halfway finished! This has flown by so fast! I'm so grateful for everyone reading this, I really appreciate all the support this story has gotten! And, just so you guys know, I do plan on writing more fics for Detroit. I'm currently working on a small piece for RK900 and I am also planning to write a longer series for our favorite 'Android Sent By CyberLife'! Thank you guys again for reading, and hope you enjoy your weeks!  
> (Also Happy "Raid Area 51" Day!)


	11. A Moment to Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is recovering from the attack on Jericho. You and Markus finally take a moment to breathe.

        You had gone swimming in Lake Michigan, once. For years your friends had planned a huge graduation road-trip. The original plan had been to pile into a car and drive half-way across the country, or even going up into Canada to celebrate making it through high school. In the end, each of you had been too broke for anything more than a drive to the lake. You remembered complaining about how cold the water was that day, taking forever to convince yourself to even get in up to your waist. 

         _I was such a  little bitch,_ you thought, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. Now, after jumping into a river in the dead of a winter night, you knew what _real_ cold water felt like. 

        And it sucked. 

        You tried desperately to stop your teeth from chattering, huddling against a wall. The church that Markus had found was at least shielded against the wind, but without heating it wasn’t doing much to help your situation. You couldn’t remember ever being so cold, which was saying something for having grown up in Detroit. That, and your head still hurt from where you’d hit it. No concussion, you were pretty sure, but it still hurt like hell. It was impossible to hide, but that didn’t stop you from bristling a little when you heard North approach, snickering a little. “You look terrible.” You glared at her until she handed you a dry set of clothes. The idea of changing out of the wet clothes you were wearing was nothing short of blissful. 

        “Thanks,” you muttered, taking the clothes. 

        North shrugged. “Can’t have you freezing to death," she said, dryly. You thought that the conversation was over and went to take off your frozen jacket. You only stopped when you realized that North hadn’t moved. You looked back up at her, tilting your head in a silent question. She watched you, her eyes empty of malice - a substantial change from just a day ago. “That was pretty stupid of you, going after me like that,” she said, but there was no anger in her voice. “Thank you.” 

        She didn’t give you the chance to say anything else, turning and walking off into the crowd of androids. You stared after her in disbelief; you never thought North would have anything but criticism for you. You supposed that almost dying had a way of bringing people together. 

        You found an out-of-the-way corner, changing as quickly as you could, leaving your still-wet clothes on the ground. You still shivered, but having something dry to wear was a vast improvement, even if they weren’t quite the right size. There was something comforting about that too, though; you had grown up wearing hand-me-downs. It was almost like being a kid again. 

        A kid in a war who was surrounded by robots. 

        You pulled your new jacket around your shoulders, rubbing your hands together to try and get your blood flowing again as you stepped out into the growing crowd. It would be a while before all of the survivors of the attack would show up; they had scattered across the city when they ran. That’s what Markus had told you anyway. 

        He was talking with Simon and Josh on the other side of the church. They stood on the elevated platform, each of them murmuring with solemn looks on their faces. _Quite the survival party._ You walked forward, weaving through the few androids between you and Markus. They looked at you as you passed, like you might have some answers. Like you would be able to tell them why terrible things happened to them, why they kept happening. You didn’t have any answers other than the world was a terrible place. A terrible place with a few bright spots here and there. 

        A hand on your arm stopped you from getting past the pews, gentle but enough to halt your walk. You turned, meeting a familiar pair of wide, brown eyes. _The android I saved. And who saved me back._ She made it. Both of you made it. “I . . .” she stammered, letting your arm go. “You saved me, back at Jericho . . .”

        “And you saved me,” you smiled, despite the grim memory of thinking you were going to die. 

        She looked thoughtful, like she was reliving the memory herself. “You helped me when no one else did. I was afraid but then I saw you,” something in her gaze had steeled. “I had to help you.” She couldn’t have been a deviant for long; she was still wearing her CyberLife issued uniform. Maybe one of the thousands that Markus woke up during the march. Either way, she hadn’t _lived_ for long, and she chose to help save you, risking her life in the process. 

        “I’m glad you did, probably be dead now if you hadn’t.” You grinned, but it didn’t reach you eyes. You _would_ be dead without her. And she would be dead without you. Both of you had risked yourselves for someone you had never met before, someone who was of a different species entirely. It was strange and surreal, something you hadn’t let yourself really think of until now. Would either of you live out the month? The week? You couldn’t say. What mattered was that you had given each other the chance to. “Thank you,” you found yourself saying, purely sincere. 

        “Thank you,” she whispered, her own voice quivering. 

        You nodded, about to turn away when she spoke again. 

        “I’m June.” She said, with an urgency that surprised you. She wanted you to know who she was, and you supposed that you understood that need. How many people had she told her name to? Had she chosen it herself or was it picked for her? You didn’t know, and you supposed that it didn’t really matter. It was who she was, and she wanted someone to care about her, just like any other person. Just like you. 

        You smiled back at June, giving her your own name in a hushed tone. “It’s nice to meet you, June.” You offered her your hand. 

        June shook it, her grip gentle. “It’s nice to meet you too.” 

        Your name being called pulled your attention behind you, and you saw the crowd parting for Markus as he made his way toward you. He looked between you and June, an apologetic expression on his face, but it was evident enough that he wanted to talk. 

        You turned to June, who started at Markus before looking back to you. You gave her a look, asking for permission to leave. She nodded once, enough of a signal for you. 

        "I'll see you around," you offered, earning you a small smile. June stepped away, rejoining a small group of androids. You turned back to Markus, watching his expression shift to one of concern. “Are you alright?” you asked, taking a step towards him. 

        He shook his head. “I should be asking you that. You’re still cold,” he observed, taking your hand in his. The action made you painfully aware of how many eyes were focused on the two of you. You also realized that you were too tired and cold to give a damn. “Come on,” Markus murmured, leading you through the crowd. He directed you to an unused bench, away from the largest group of androids. He took a seat beside you, taking his coat off and draping it over your shoulders before settling in close to you. You couldn’t help but chuckle. 

        “Thanks,” you smiled, wrapping his jacket tighter around you. Markus nodded in an _it was nothing_ sort of way. You let yourself lean in to him, feeling the warmth of his body through the layers of clothing you were wearing. You envied androids for being able to control their own body temperature; you would kill for that ability right now. Still, you couldn’t complain if Markus used it as an excuse to be this close to you. With all the shit that had been happening, you would take comfort where you could find it. Markus, it seemed, felt the same way. 

        The two of you sat in silence for a while, becoming lost in your own thoughts - and there were _plenty_ of thoughts to get lost in. 

        “What’s on your mind?” you finally asked, seeing him wrestling with something. 

        Markus looked to you, his eyebrows knitting together. “You asked if I was willing to fight for my people’s freedom,” he began, and you knew by his grave tone that something was very wrong. “They aren’t giving us a choice anymore.” 

        Your breath turned to smoke as it left you, your eyes darkening. He was right. The army had invaded Jericho with the intent to wipe everyone out, unarmed or not. This wasn’t a war, this was an extermination. “So what are you gonna do?”

        “They only understand violence. I don’t know if we can do anything other than fight them.” Markus responded almost too quickly, like he was trying to justify the words not just to you but to himself as well. You knew that you would have launched an attack after tonight. You would have pulled all the androids together and started a fight against the unjustness of the whole thing. Your first instinct was to fight. Markus’ shouldn’t have been. It was strange that you, who had so often advocated for Markus to push back against the world, were almost hurt to hear him talk about fighting back now. It hurt because it wasn’t _him_ , you supposed, because the world was forcing him to become something he wasn’t. 

        Still, you knew that he had to do _something_. 

        “I killed people tonight.” His admission was a bolt of lightning. A car skidding on ice. Something unexpected and impossible to ignore. 

        You couldn’t help but gape at him, putting two and two together. You’d seen him pull the trigger on someone, you _knew_ that it was life or death but there was something about him saying it out loud that made it real. The soldiers had guns, and they had tried to kill him, of course Markus couldn’t have survived without killing some of them. Hell, you had been prepared to do whatever it took to survive too. Still, the realization, coupled with the look of complete guilt on Markus’ face was enough to tie your gut in knots. 

        “You did what you had to do, Markus.” You did believe that, you truly did. That didn’t make any of this less difficult. 

        Markus shook his head. “There had to have been another way-”

        You knew where he was headed, what spiral he was about to fall down. The cold now forgotten, you rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do that to yourself. You didn’t make them attack you, you didn’t force those soldiers to fight.” He grimaced, like he didn’t fully believe you, but you kept going. “Maybe there was another choice, but you did what you had to do to stay alive.” _And I’m grateful for that much, at least._ “That’s all any of us can do.” 

        Markus closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. When he opened them, he looked out into growing crowd of androids. “I don’t know what to do,” he finally admitted. 

        You shook your head. “Neither do I.” It was a true, humorless admission, but one that came with an idea. “But you know who might?”

        Markus looked at you, his expression one of understanding, joy and fear all at the same time. “I haven’t seen him since . . .” Markus trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. You nodded, waiting to see what Markus would say. It was several long moments before he spoke again, his tone stronger than it had been all night. “Will you go with me?”

        You nodded. “Of course I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah we all know who's gonna be costaring in the next chapter! I'm also brining in a special guest character that we haven't heard from yet! Well, not in an official dialogue anyway.


	12. Sage Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In search of advice for the coming fight, you and Markus visit home. Markus comes to terms with the choice before him and you make a long-overdue phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be guest-starring a character who hasn't made an official appearance yet!

        Somehow, walking up to Carl’s house became less daunting every time you did it. It probably had something to do with the fact that you were getting shot at on a fairly regular basis now. That tended to make other things in life a little more manageable. 

        Your head still throbbed a bit from where you’d hit it, and you had a lovely black and purple bruise forming on your cheek.  _ Battle scars _ , you told yourself. The jury was still out as to whether that outlook was actually helping you or not. Markus holding your hand as you made your way to Carl’s door was much more reliable. You had never been the hand-holding type, or at least you didn’t think you were until now. Still, it was nice to have something that reminded you he was there. You figured he must have appreciated it too, or he wouldn’t have his fingers interlaced with your own. 

         You squeezed his hand lightly when he stopped in front of the door, looking up at him. He looked almost afraid, but that fear softened as he squeezed your hand back. He took a breath -  _ when did he pick up that habit, if he didn’t need to breathe?  _ \- and stepped forward, the snow crunching beneath his boots as he went. You followed, letting your hand slip out of his as you approached the door. 

         The lights inside turned on as the door swung open. A synthesized voice came from overhead, “Alarm deactivated. Welcome home, Markus.” 

_ Welcome home indeed _ . He hadn’t seen Carl since the night he’d been shot. You hadn’t seen Carl since before the night you rescued Simon. It hadn’t been more than a few days but it seemed like a lifetime ago. Funny, how time worked that way. 

         The two of you stepped over the threshold, finding the beautiful house unchanged since your first dinner there. That, too, seemed like a lifetime ago. 

         You were snapped out of your memories when Markus took a few steps forward, heading for the mirror that rested on a marble-top table. You followed close behind, only realizing what had caught his interest when he activated the message machine and a hologram of Leo sprang to life.  _ So he’s doing better. _ You were glad, even though Leo was the reason Markus had nearly died. You were glad for Carl, glad that his son was still alive. 

        You felt Markus stiffen for a moment, his reaction so small you might have missed it if you hadn’t been looking out for it. You had told him that Leo had survived their fight, but it had done little to lessen his guilt over what happened. It never ceased to amaze you how much compassion Markus had, even when the world did nothing but try to choke it out of him. 

_ “Hey Dad. I’m getting out of the hospital tomorrow . . .”  _ you looked up to Markus, gaging his reaction. Something flashed behind his eyes - relief, maybe?  _ “I um . . . I’m really sorry about everything that happened . . . I’m gonna stop all that shit. It messes me up, turns me into somebody I hate.” _

        You let your head drop as you listened, your eyes wandering while your mind did the same. You thought again of Luther singing to Alice, of how you hadn’t spoken to your father in even longer than when you’d last spoken to Carl. You bit your lip, forcing yourself to focus.

_ “I . . . I just wanna let you know . . . I’m proud to be your son.”  _ The message flickered out, and you and Markus were left in silence. 

        “You okay?” you asked, smiling when he nodded. 

        “Come on,” he ran his fingertips over your knuckles, leading you towards the stairs. You climbed the beautifully colored steps, keeping your footfalls light. You swept your gaze around, eyeing the massive blue painting that sat at the top of the stairs.  _ Thirium blue _ , you realized as you passed it, heading for Carl’s room. You no sooner rounded the corner that a man stepped out, his white uniform and glowing blue armband giving him away immediately. The new android. One meant to replace Markus, as if such a thing were possible. You had seen him once before, the last time you visited. 

        “Who are you?” he asked, his LED spinning. “How did you get in?”

        You looked at Markus, not sure of how to handle the situation. “I need to see Carl,” he said, a cautious answer. 

        “Carl isn’t seeing anyone. You need to leave.” 

        Markus looked back at you, and you could swear you saw fear flash across his eyes. His hand slipped out of yours as he moved forward, stopping right in front of the other android. There was a moment’s hesitation before Markus reached out a hand, his synthetic skin disappearing as he made contact with the android. You didn’t have to ask to know that he was freeing him, waking him up for the first time. He was giving him the option to deviate. “Please,” he begged in a tone that broke your heart. “I need to see him.”

        The android’s eyes softened as he spoke, easing your nerves. “He’s very weak. I’m not sure you’ll be able to talk to him.” 

        Markus’ shoulders stiffened. He released the android’s arm, letting his own hand fall to his side. You stepped up next to him, looking between him and the newly freed android. You knew Markus well enough to recognize pain, even as well as he concealed it. Carl had been largely in the same condition the last time you saw him, though even then he hadn’t been too weak to speak. You hadn’t known things were that bad. Neither had Markus, if his expression was any indication. Still, he looked relieved too as the other android stepped back, making way for you and Markus to pass through the door. You muttered a thanks to him, waiting for Markus to make the first move. 

        For a moment, you were sure that he wasn’t going to go through with it. He stood still, his focus locked on the door in front of him. Then, he closed his eyes. His shoulders rose and fell. He opened his eyes and looked back at you. You nodded back, a silent conversation passing between the two of you. When he looked forward again, he took his first step forward. 

        The door slid open as he walked. 

        Seeing someone you loved hooked up to hospital machines was always hard. There was no way around it, no matter how many times you saw them. The steady droning of a heart monitor was always more like a reminder that someone’s days might be numbered, rather than a sign that they were alive. That held true with Carl, a man you had known for so short a time. Your heart dropped at the sight of him, a feeling that was made worse when Markus ran to his side, taking the old man’s hand in his. You were at the bedside in an instant, just in time to see Carl open his eyes. 

        “Carl-”

        “Markus.” Your lips quirked up at the sheer joy in Carl’s voice. “I was hoping you’d come.” His eyes moved up to you, and his smile widened. “Both of you.” 

       Markus looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes shining like glass. You smiled at him, stepping closer to him. Letting him know you were there. Markus smiled back and he turned back to look at Carl. “I’ve missed you so much, Carl . . .” there was a pause, so many unspoken words exchanged between the two. They smiled and there was a pain in your chest. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”

        Carl looked between the two of you, and you realized just how close you had instinctually gotten to Markus. The look Carl was giving the two of you was enough to let you know that he had noticed that too. He smiled, having  just maneuvered into a checkmate.  

       “I’ve missed both of you, too,” he said, squeezing Markus’ hand with a feeble kind of strength. “And I’m happy for both of you. It’s about time.” 

        Markus froze for a moment, taken aback. Carl just gave him  _ that look _ in return. You couldn’t help but smile. He’d known since the beginning, after all. Markus looked back at you again, his eyes softening. You shrugged at him, your smile widening. 

        “I’m old, but I’m not blind, Markus.” The old man smirked. “I’ve been around too long not to notice something like that. So,” Carl gave you a pointed look, “did you start things or did he?” 

        You couldn’t hide the look of horror you took on at the implication. Markus couldn’t either, it seemed. The only thing that the two of you had shared so far was kisses and somehow you felt guilty for that.  _ Well, kisses and some pretty intense hand-holding _ , you reminded yourself.  _ Can’t forget the hand-holding, the greatest sin of all. _ You and Markus shared a look, both of you watching Carl grin out of the corners of your eyes. “It sort of . . . just happened, I guess,” you finally conceded, not really remembering who had leaned in first. The world had been spinning too much for you to really remember what had happened. 

        “So it was you, then.” Carl could have winked, with how much wry wit he spoke with. You and Markus exchanged another look, and then looked back to the aging artist. Carl went on, tired and weary but content. “It’s alright. There’s enough bad  in the world, you both deserve some good.” 

        “Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think that way,” you huffed, noting how Carl’s eyes lingered on your newly blossoming bruise. 

        You wondered how much Carl knew, how much he’d seen on the news. Then again, with the condition your face was in, it would be hard  _ not _ to know that the two of you had been in the line of fire. His smile had faded and a muted look of worry had replaced it. Worry for you and Markus both. You were worried too. How could you not be? Markus might be leading you into war in the coming hours, if that was the path he decided on taking. So yes, you were worried. Worried because you couldn’t really see any other way out of this, either. 

        “The world is always going to try to push back on you in some way. You have to hold on to what you care about.” 

        You nodded, a single, solemn gesture. 

        You had let so much that you care about slip through your fingers. You hadn’t fought to go to the arts school that you wanted because your family didn’t have the money. You let your friends grow distant because you always had to work. You let your family move away without you so you could save up. So many things you let go because the world told you that you had to. 

        You were going to hold on to Markus. Damn what the world wanted. 

        Carl looked pleased enough with your nod, his eyes turning to Markus, who had remained quiet. When you looked at the android, his eyes were distant, his shoulders tensed again. Carl had made him think of the real world, outside this reunion. You grimaced, thinking of it too. No matter how nice things were for a moment, the real world was always there to remind you of the way things were. Ever-present and bitter.  _ You can never escape life. It always catches up with you. _ Another piece of advice given to you a lifetime ago. Something your father had said when you tried to hide your homework to get out of doing it. Different circumstances, but the principle held up.

        You missed him. 

        You missed both of your parents, and your siblings and your friends who had moved away. 

_ If things go bad . . . no one would know. None of them would know what happened to me. _

        The realization struck like a hammer. 

_ I need to call my Dad. _

        “You two should catch up,” you murmured, nudging Markus gently. The two of them gave you a questioning look, and you took a breath of air. “Carl, do you have a phone I could use?”

        -----

        Markus knew that there would be no easy answers. The situation had thousands of variables, too many for him to even begin to calculate the outcomes. That didn’t make Carl admitting he couldn’t help any easier, though. 

        “Life is making choices. Between love and hate, between holding out your hand or closing it in a fist . . . I don't have any easy answers, Markus. You have to accept the world as it is, or fight to change it.” Carl’s voice was steady as ever, even as Markus’ thoughts were a whirlwind. 

        Still, there was something in Carl’s eyes. Like he knew what  _ he _ would do, but wanted Markus to come to the conclusion himself. Markus had half expected that. Carl had always let Markus find his own answers, rather than point them out himself. It was strange - both comforting and discomforting - that Markus was fighting for the right to make the kinds of choices he was struggling with now. Maybe that was the reason Carl remained impartial. It wasn’t about Markus doing what others thought was right. It was about Markus deciding for himself, gaging the world with his own values. It was about being alive. Love and hate, peace and war, all of it. 

         That could have been it. Markus could have left it there and gone back to the church to ponder his choice more. Instead, something held him in place. Something that gnawed at him from the inside-out. 

        “You’re worried about  _ her _ ,” Carl observed, taking the words out of Markus’ head and making them real. 

        Markus lowered his gaze but nodded, admitting the truth that had been tearing at him. “I want her to be safe,” Markus admitted, “I don’t know it that’s possible anymore.” 

         Carl let his eyes drift closed for a moment, his brow furrowing in contemplation. “She’s strong, Markus.”

         “I know.” If Markus knew  _ anything _ about you, it was how strong you were. You had an ability to take a hit and keep on walking like no one else Markus had met. But that didn’t change the fact that you could have died tonight, or at the march. It didn’t make the danger ahead any less real. 

        Carl must have heard as much in Markus’ tone. “She cares about you,” the words were enough to make a lump form in Markus’ throat. “She’ll follow you to hell and back, I think. But even  _ you _ can’t control who lives and dies. All you can do is keep each other safe. Look after each other.”

        That was the problem. There was only one way that he could make sure that you were safe . . . and that was to make sure that you weren’t there when this ended. The thought was painful enough that Markus hadn’t considered it as a real possibility. Now though . . . things weren’t as clear anymore. 

        Markus made his way to Carl's side once again, taking the old man's hand. Carl offered the same, wise look that Markus had come to know so well. "You’re my son, Markus. Our blood isn’t the same color, but I know a part of me is in you.” Carl took a breath, offering a small nod - a signal to listen close. “When the world falls into darkness, some men have the courage to lead it out. You’re one of those men.” The old man took a moment to think, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Face the abyss, but don’t let it consume you.” The words hung in the air, and Markus knew that this was the advice Carl wished to impart on him. It may not have been what he came for, but it was precious to Markus nonetheless. 

        Carl held Markus’ gaze and the warmth in it was enough to quiet the android’s mind. He laid his other hand over Markus’, and the android blinked at the feeling. It was so familiar - one that he had felt hundreds of times before - but now Markus found himself transfixed. Both his life and Carl’s might be nearing their end, he realised. This might be the last time they ever saw each other. 

        With that in mind, Markus took to cataloguing every wrinkle, every joint in Carl’s hand. He memorized the feeling of it - so that no matter what happened tonight or in the future, he would always have this piece of his father with him. 

        The old man’s eyes drifted closed and Markus stood, letting his hand slip away from Carl. He realised, as he made his way through the door, that he was leaving with more questions than answers. 

        He was standing in the eye of the storm, and he resolved to do everything he could to protect you from it. 

        -----

        You realized, as you listened to the phone ring, that you had no idea what you were doing. 

        Sure, you had a general plan of what to say if your parents picked up the phone, but you couldn’t exactly tell them why you hadn’t called. You couldn’t tell them that you were helping androids rebel against their creators and that you had been shot at. You couldn’t say that you were fine either, because you weren’t. You couldn’t facetime them for that very reason. You knew that your father would press you about the bruise on your cheek. Even if you _ had _ a good lie for that one, you knew that if your father could see your eyes he’d know in an instant that you weren’t telling the truth.

        He would probably be able to tell with just your voice, too, but it was a risk you had to take. 

        You squeezed your eyes closed, leaning up against the intricate railing of Carl’s staircase. Maybe just say you were having trouble at work? That you lost your phone? Pretty much anything but the truth would be preferable. 

        The phone kept ringing, and you held your breath. 

        Maybe no one would pick up. You were calling from a strange number at night, it would be perfectly reasonable for your parents not to answer. Leaving a message would be easier; you would have complete control over how much information you gave up. It wouldn’t be the same, but it  _ would _ be easier. 

         Then again, the easy route had never been your style.

_ “Hello? Who is this?” _

        You almost choked on air when you heard your father speak, your eyes snapping open. “Dad?” Your voice was quiet but coarse, no doubt already giving away that something was wrong. 

        Your name, spoken in a cautious, questioning way let you know that your father wasn’t entirely convinced that it was  _ you _ on the other end of this call. Or at least that he hadn’t been expecting it. You couldn’t blame him for that one. 

         “Hey,” you started, only to realize that you had no idea where to go from there. 

         Luckily, your father handled that for you. 

_ “Where the hell have you been? We’ve been trying to call you for days.”  _ There was an unspoken  _ ‘I was worried sick _ ,’ that went along with his question, something that you had come to hear after years of living with him. You couldn't blame him for that, either. 

        “Lost my phone, I’m sorry.” You hoped that he wouldn’t be able to hear how bad you were bullshitting him with that line. “Things have been crazy around here.”  _ That _ part was entirely too true. 

_ “We heard.”  _ There was a pause, one that made you hold your breath. Did he know- _ “You doing’ okay?”  _ You let your shoulders slacken. If he  _ did _ know something, he had decided not to bring it up. Not yet, at least.

        You nodded, even if he wasn’t there to see it. “Ya I’m fine.” 

        Another beat.  _ “What did I tell you about lying?” _

        “That I shouldn’t.” 

_ “Exactly.”  _ His tone softened, in the way that it always did when he was about to ask what was wrong. You had figured that he was going to know that something was up, one way or another. You just hadn’t thought that it would happen so soon in your conversation.  _ “You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”  _

        There it was. The question with an impossible answer. 

        It would be easy enough to lie. Maybe you wouldn’t be completely successful in it, but you didn’t  _ have  _ to tell him anything. You could just make up stupid things about how annoying people were at work, or maybe some news with your friends. Suddenly, you thought of thousands of possible responses, all of them varying degrees of truth.  _ I made some new friends, we’ve been running around town a lot.  I’ve been trying to get more involved with the community. Give back, you know? And I’ve been seeing a really nice guy. Things are getting pretty serious . . . _

        You hadn’t called him for that. You didn’t want this conversation to be nothing but untruths. You had called him because you needed advice just as much as Markus did. Advice and comfort. 

        So, you chose your words carefully. “There’s just a lot going on.” Your father stayed quiet, listening patiently. “I’m . . . I think I’m in over my head, honestly.” It was the first time you’d said it out loud. Finally acknowledging the feeling that had been clawing at your brain. You didn’t appreciate how your voice quivered when you spoke, covering it with a dry laugh. 

_ “Are you in any trouble?” _ His voice was grave, like he already knew the answer. 

         “When am I not?” 

         A sigh let you know that your joke hadn’t worked.  _ And they say laughter is the best medicine. _

_           “You always did have a talent for getting yourself into trouble.” _ You laughed, remembering how many times he caught you trying to snag an extra cookie as a child, or sneak out of the house to draw. The not-so-secret trips out of class to get food with your friends, and the few busted parties you'd gone to.  _ “But you also had a talent for getting yourself out of it.” _

          “I don’t know if that’s gonna work this time, Dad.” 

          You could hear him take a breath of air from the other side of the call.  _ “If things are that bad, there’s a place for you here. You mother and I would be happy-” _

         “No.” Your voice was sharp, and it silenced your father. You couldn’t go home, not now. No matter how afraid you were, no matter what happened next, you wouldn’t give up this fight. “I . . . I have to see this through.” 

_ “You’re not giving me much to go off of, kiddo.” _

        “I know. I’m sorry. I just-”

_ “You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to.” _ He reassured you, and you felt yourself ease. Then, he lowered his voice to a familiar tone. It was one that you had heard countless times before; the kind that you and your siblings had learned to snap to attention to. It meant that he was trying to tell you something important.  _ “Do what you’ve gotta do. You’ve always been tough. The world’s thrown some shit at you and you’re still here. If you want to fight for what you believe in, nothing can stop you. At least not me. I couldn’t stop you from sneaking out of the house.” _

        A short laugh escaped you, despite his implications. It occured to you, in that moment, that there had been cameras at the march. There had been people all over the world watching when Markus had stepped in front of the guns, and they’d been watching when you pulled him back to safety after he was shot. 

        Caught with your hand in the cookie jar, as it were. 

_ “There are enough people who just roll over and do what the world tells them. We could use more people who want to change it.” _

        “The problem is that the world doesn’t want to change,” you muttered, looking up when you heard footsteps. Markus stood at the top of the stairs and even from so far away you could see the change in his eyes. The storm had quieted, if only a bit. He smiled at you as he made his way down, taking a seat on the steps next to you as your father spoke again. 

_  “People usually don’t, if they’re comfortable. Sometimes all it takes is the right person to make them realize that change needs to happen.” _

        “Or lighting a fire under their asses.” You saw Markus grin out of the corner of your eye.

_ “That too. Just don’t burn yourself in the process.” _

        You scoffed. “There’s always something.”

_ “C’est la vie, as your mother would say.” _

        You smiled softly, remembering the countless times she’d repeated the saying to you. “How is she? Can I talk to her?”

_ “She’s still at work. Another late night.” _

        You had guessed as much, but your heart still sank. You’d been hoping to get both of them. Still, one was better than none. “Will you tell her I said ‘hi’?” 

_ “Of course.” _

        You thought of your siblings, the ones who had gotten out of Detroit the first chance they got. “And everyone else, tell them ‘hi’ from me too.” 

_ “I will. You could always call them and tell them yourself, you know.” _ Markus must have heard that, by the look he gave you. 

       “I know. I’ll try, if I get the chance.” It was the only promise you could give, but it seemed to be enough. 

        “ _ Alright. Anything else you wanna vaguely allude to?“ _ You couldn't help but appreciate his tone. Wisdom and sarcasm. The man had the two of them in abundance. 

__  You’d inherited some of both. A mischievous look took your face as you thought of a response. You wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to mess with Markus, at least a little. “Not much. There’s this guy though,” you flicked your eyes to the android beside you, pleased to see that you’d caught his attention. His mismatched eyes were wide. “He’s nice. Kind of artsy. No regard for personal safety, though.” 

        Markus stared at you in disbelief, and you smiled back innocently.  _ The horrors of war have nothing on the horrors of ‘meeting the parents’ _ . Not in this particular moment, at least.

        Your father gave an audible sigh on the other end.  _ “Well sounds like you’re on an even playing field, then.”  _ It was Markus’ turn to grin, while your eyes went wide at your father’s betrayal. Still, he wasn’t wrong.

__  “Okay that’s fair.” 

        He laughed and suddenly you felt the air around you become heavy again. Heavy because you knew that the conversation couldn’t last forever. He must have realized the same thing, because his laugh wasn’t a long-lived one.

_ “Are you gonna be alright?” _ he asked, giving you one last opportunity to tell him otherwise. 

        It was strange that you could honestly answer either way and have it be completely honest. “Ya,” you said, looking back at Markus, “I think I’ll be okay.”

        The android looked back at you, sheer adoration in his eyes chipping away at the dam holding yourself together. 

_ “Alright.”  _ Your father sounded satisfied with the answer.  _ “Just take care of yourself, will you?” _

        You grinned, fighting the sting of tears against your eyes. “I’ve never been good at that.” 

_ “Oh, I know.” _ You could almost see him rolling his eyes. 

        The grin turned into a full-force smile. Some of the weight of the world was gone, if only for a moment. “I’ve gotta go,” you said, again hating your shaky voice for betraying your feelings. “I’ll call again as soon as I can, okay?”

_ “Okay.”  _ He didn’t want you to hang up, you could tell. You could also tell that he knew you had to go. It was the same feeling you’d gotten from him when you told him that you were staying in Detroit to save up money; the bittersweet mix of understanding and sadness. It was a two-way street; things were the same on your side.  _ “Love you, kiddo.” _ He finally said, his famous sarcasm absent. It reminded you of fathers sending their children off to war. That’s what it was, you supposed. 

       “Love you too.” 

       You hung up and the world sat in silence. He knew, because of course he did. He knew that you were fighting on Markus’ side. Thinking that you could have gotten out of that phone call without him knowing at least part of what was going on was foolish, you knew that. Your father was many things, but easily fooled wasn’t one of them. Whether he believed in the movement or not, he was with you. He supported you. The man who had cautioned you so long ago to give up on your dreams lest you find them broken was telling you not to give up this fight.  _ People only care about artists after they’re dead. _ Something he’d said to a child, a roundabout way of trying to protect you from the world.  _ If you want to fight for what you believe in, nothing can stop you _ . Advice from a father who knew that he couldn’t protect you anymore. It was up to you now. You grinned despite the tears welling in your eyes.  _ Should have figured _ . 

        In the end, you were glad that he’d found out. You were glad that you’d called, and that he’d been able to give you the advice that he did, even with how brief it was. 

        “Are you alright?” Markus asked, and you snapped your attention back to him. 

        There was some hesitation, but you nodded all the same. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You were surprised at how even your voice was. “You?”

        Markus took a moment to think too. You were sure that his LED would have been spinning, if he still had it. “Yeah.” He finally nodded. “That was your father, wasn’t it?” 

        You nodded. “I haven’t been able to talk to him - to any of them - for a while. I figured this would be a good time . . .”  _ in case things go wrong. _ Markus didn’t need you to voice the end of the sentence. He would understand better than anyone why you had made the call. “How was Carl?” you asked, pushing yourself away from the banister so you sat closer to Markus. 

         The android smiled. “Good. I’m glad I got to see him.” 

         “Me too,” you admitted, letting your voice be small. “Any advice from him?”

         “He said we need to take care of each other,” Markus grinned, “because we’re so bad at taking care of ourselves.” 

         Again you found yourself laughing, because that was spot-on. Markus, despite the serious look in his eyes moments before, joined you in your uproar. “He’s got us there.” 

        “I suppose he does.” Markus trailed off, his eyes finding the door. 

        You took the cue. “Time to go?”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

        Markus nodded, offering you his hand as you stood. You took it, letting him pull you up beside him.  _ Back to the real world, _ you thought, bracing yourself as you followed Markus down the steps. “What’s wrong?” Markus asked, seeing your hesitation. You gave Carl’s house one last look around as you went, trying to draw it out for as long as you could. It was like its own little world, all art and expression, not like the one you grew up in. You felt selfish for wanting to stay in that world for as long as you could, but you couldn’t help it. It was everything you’d dreamed about as a kid, real and tangible and just out of reach. 

         Maybe your old man had been right, all those years ago. Maybe you just weren’t destined to become a famous artist. It certainly didn’t seem possible now, given that you were something of a fugitive. Maybe even a terrorist, in some people’s eyes. Art seemed so far away from you now.

         You looked back at Markus, from his blue eye to his green one. “Nothing. It’s just . . .” You sighed, trying to find the words. “I don’t know. Life is funny.” Markus quirked an eyebrow and you elaborated. “I thought I was going to be stuck waiting tables for the rest of my life. I never thought that I’d actually be part of something important. It’s . . . it’s weird to me, I guess.” 

        Markus looked surprised at your answer. “Even with your art? You never wanted to pursue it?”

        You laughed. “I always wanted to. It just seemed impossible. You don’t hear about kids from my neighborhood growing up to be artists.”

        “You don’t hear about androids becoming artists much, either.” The corners of Markus’ mouth curved into a smile, and your chest warmed. You had seen the painting of his in Carl’s studio, when you had picked up your own canvas. Carl told you that he had asked him to paint it the morning before everything happened. Even before he deviated, Markus had been capable of thinking for himself. Capable of passion and expression, even if the world told him that he wasn’t. 

         “Well, I guess we’ll just have to prove some people wrong, then. When all this is over,” you smirked, though it fell when you saw a glint in Markus’ eyes. It was almost . . . mischievous? Maybe that was the wrong word; you weren’t sure that Markus was capable of mischief. Still, the look had you excited. “What?” You asked, eager to hear the answer. 

         “Do you still have your spray paints?” 

         You couldn’t stop your eyes from lighting up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was a long one.  
> I've wanted to have the Reader talk to her dad for a long time now, so I'm glad I could write those two interacting, even if it's over the phone. Also, ten points to anyone who spotted the Hamilton reference in here.
> 
> In other news, my summer semester just ended and I will be going on break for a week before going back to school. That said, I don't know how reliable my internet is going to be next week so the next update might be a few days late, depending. That said, we're getting close to the end, folks!


	13. The Cost of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus has had to make many difficult choices about the future of his people. As the end of this fight looms, he is forced to make an even worse one regarding you.

        Markus had seen more death in the last few days than in the years he’d been with Carl. It was such a small portion of his life, and yet it had changed him irreversibly. Where he once walked the streets of Detroit with abandon, he now did so with fear. He couldn't afford anything less, considering. He knew what the consequences might be if either of you were caught.

        It made wanting to make a mural . . . ambitious, to say the least.

        Maybe he was being foolish. He was almost _certain_ that he was being foolish. Still, that didn’t stop him from leading you through the streets, sticking to back alleyways and not daring to make a sound. You followed close behind without questions or hesitation, your eyes set in a focused stare on the path ahead of you. The same eyes that had been so bright the first day Markus met you, now so changed. The last few days had left their mark on you just as much as him, he supposed. 

        He wished more than anything that he could have changed that. 

        The headlights of a car made Markus press his back up against a wall, pulling you in beside him. He heard you hold your breath as the car passed, shadows dancing off the wall as it went. 

        “Not that I don’t love the whole ‘fugitives on the run’ thing,” you whispered, your breath turning to fog as it hit the cold air, “but where exactly are we going?” 

        Markus gave you a small smile. “It’s not far.” He assured you, and it was true. In fact, he was surprised that you hadn’t figured out where the two of you were headed already. Then again, he had taken quite a roundabout way of getting there. 

        "Please tell me we're going to my old high school." Markus smirked at your tone as he signaled for you to follow him. "I have a few choice messages to leave on the side of that building." 

        "No, that's not it." 

        "Damn."

        Again, Markus found himself marveling at how you could joke at times like this. It was a skill he hadn't learned himself, which just made him treasure it in you. He had always loved your humor. Somehow the danger of the revolution had made him appreciate it even more. 

        Refocusing, Markus examined the streets, looking for any activity. When he found it empty, he nodded and the two of you crossed from one street to another. 

        Less than a block. 

        As soon as the two of you rounded the corner and came into view of the trees, Markus heard you gasp. 

         "No way."

        Markus had seen the park in snow before, but never at night. Never so quiet. It was worthy of a painting itself. Streetlights lit the paved pathway through the trees, turning snowflakes that drifted through their light silver. The snow beyond the paths, falling where the grass was, was untouched. It sparkled under the moonlight. It was nothing like it had been the day he met you there, when the sun had been shining through now absent leaves. It was another kind of beautiful, now. 

        Out of the corner of his eye, Markus saw you step forward into the snow, grinning up at him. "You could have just said we were going to the park," you said, that wonderful brightness in your eyes returning. “Not many places to put up a mural, though.”

        Markus shook his head. “Not in the park. But the wall by the barber shop on the other side is free,” he gestured forward, spotting the very wall he spoke of through the trees and snow. Recognition flashed across your face, and you grinned again. “We’ll have to be fast. I don’t know when a patrol is going to come through.” 

        You gave him a nod. “No time like the present, then.” 

        That was all the encouragement he needed. He let you lead the way through the park, watching your eyes wander over the trees and snow covered benches. It didn’t escape his notice that your gaze lingered on one bench in particular; the same one where you had drawn him and Carl, all those months ago. Markus smiled too as the two of you passed it. He never could have imagined any of this, then. Not the revolution, not the friendships he would make along the way, not falling in love with you. He would have thought it impossible. 

       No matter how things ended now, he was glad to have been proven wrong. 

       “Alright,” you said, stopping just in front of the red brick wall in question. Markus joined you in looking up at it. It was bare but bathed in a soft light from a nearby lamp. A blank canvas, ready to be marked - although Markus had to admit that this was a bit more daunting than the canvas at Carl’s house had been. “So, what’s the plan?” you asked, eyeing the wall. 

         A fair question, and one that Markus didn’t have a complete answer to. “I . . . I wanted us to make it together,” he admitted. Your eyes lit up at that, and it warmed him against the cold. “Since we’ve never had the chance before . . .” _and we might not get it again._ Even if he won, even if the androids secured their freedom, he didn’t know what would come after. It would be a whole new world, one that he couldn't predict. And if he intended to keep you safe . . . He wanted the two of you to share something peaceful before things fell back into chaos. He wanted to just be two people doing something they loved together. 

        So, as quickly as you could, the two of you traded ideas. Markus told you what he wanted while you described some of your unused mural plans. It didn’t take long for the two of you to settle on a compromise. 

        You were the first to make your mark on the wall. You started with a deep blue, one that would have been impossible to see in the dark were it not for the streetlight nearby. Markus, meanwhile, chose a bright red. As he made the first stroke, the world beyond the wall almost fell away. With the focused silence around the two of you, it was easy to forget what lay beyond the park. Markus made sure to remind himself out of necessity, looking over his shoulder and scanning everything around him to ensure that the two of you weren’t discovered. He knew that the two of you might have to run at any moment - an all too familiar feeling, now - but luck, for once, seemed to be on his side. The park stayed still, even as he made the finishing touches on his half of the painting. The world was giving him the gift of peace, despite the growing anticipation and dread in his heart.

         “Mind if I steal the white?” you asked, putting the blue back in the duffle bag. Markus handed you the can and couldn’t help but watch as you put the finishing touches on your own half. He watched the speed with which you moved, the unblinking fixation of your eyes on the work in front of you, and his mouth curved into a smile. For all that had changed, for everything that you had survived, the face you made while engrossed in art was the same. 

        The hiss of the spray paint can stopped and a moment later you stepped back from the wall. 

        You stopped at Markus’ side, your shoulder brushing against his arm as the two of you looked at your work. Markus couldn’t help but smile with pride. 

        Two figures now mirrored the two of you on the wall, silhouettes standing proud, facing forward with their hands joined. One, the side that Markus had painted, was a brilliant red. He had put a painstaking amount of detail into the facial features, working with what paints he had to create what might have been a real person, if he had continued to work for perhaps a little longer. The expression of this figure was raw and undoubtedly human. It’s counter in blue, the one that you had painted, was just as identifiable, even without the presence of the telltale LED.  White lines came together over the blue like geometric puzzle pieces to form the shape of an android, perfectly containing the stark azure paint within them. Where the silhouettes joined hands, so too did their colors mix. The geometric pattern of the android wrapped around the red paint of its human counterpart, flaking off as it went up the forearm. Meanwhile the red wound its way up the android’s arm, breaking through the hard lines and tapering off at the elbow. 

         Two sides of the same coin. Two races that were now irreversibly tied together, for better or for worse. 

         “I almost feel douchey,” you mused, “we basically painted us.” 

         The android chuckled. 

         You beamed up at him now, your focus no longer on the painting in front of you. Your gaze drew Markus’ attention away too, leaving the two of you to laugh and look at each other. Look _through_ each other might have been a better assessment though, with how your eyes locked. Even as your smile faded a bit, Markus could see the joy in your eyes brighter than ever. It drove a stake through him, seeing you this happy and knowing what he was about to say.

         He murmured your name, only for your lips to stop him. Against every instinct in his body, he pulled you closer to him as he deepened the kiss, sure to keep his touch gentle. He had grown so used to holding onto everything until his knuckles turned white; it had been the only way to have some control with everything that had been going on. He didn’t need control now, though. Not when it was just the two of you. 

         The kiss ended too soon. The look of adoration you gave him afterwards twisted the knife.

        “Thank you for this,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. 

        Markus’ lips curved into a small smile, despite himself. “I’ve wanted this for a long time now.” He didn’t need to elaborate on what had prompted action. You knew well enough that things were standing on the edge of a knife. He took a steadying breath, ready to deliver the warning he prepared since he left Carl’s house.  “I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight,” he admitted, his voice dangerously low. 

        He thought for a moment that you might crack a joke or dazzle him with your smile. Instead, you nodded once, grim acceptance on your face. “I know. Just . . .” you blinked, looking from one eye to the other. From green to blue and back again. “Don’t let them change you.”

        Just a few simple words and Markus felt himself crumbling. His throat tightened and his eyes began to sting, but he held your gaze. He couldn’t be sure if you realized the weight of what you had just given him. A final piece of advice from the heart, one that meant the world. It meant that, to you, he was enough. He didn’t have to be human, or the leader of the revolution, or anything beyond what he really _was_. It was a simple sentiment, and one that _broke_ him. It broke him because of what he was about to do. 

        He tried to speak, he really did. A dozen different responses ran through his head but none of them seemed to fit. So instead he  stayed silent, just looking at you as snowflakes dusted your hair. He observed every detail, every beautiful imperfection he could find.  Your's was the kind of beauty a man would raise an army for, give up everything for. This man, anyway. That made his next words among the hardest he'd ever spoken.

        “I can’t let you come with us tonight.” 

        Just like that, the warmth and love in your eyes was gone, and Markus felt his whole body go rigid. 

        He thought he knew what your reaction would be. He thought that you would be angry but . . . the look you were giving him now was worse than anything he could have imagined. There was no anger, no fury like he thought. You were staring at him like you couldn’t understand what he was saying. Your eyes were wide, mouth gaping open. No anger, no. 

        You were hurt, and that was so much worse. 

        “ _What_?” you asked, searching Markus’ face for the answer. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything at first, a moment of hesitation that seemed to finally spark the flame. “What do you mean I _can’t_?” 

        There was no right answer. Nothing he could say would make this any easier. “I want you to go home, or go to Carl’s house,” he tried to bring himself to look at you, but found that his strength was failing him. “It’s too dangerous-”

         “Like _hell_.” You hardened your eyes into a glare, one that pinned Markus in place. He murmured your name, but you ignored him. “I’m not going to just let you go out there alone, Markus. Why is that so hard for you to wrap your head around?” Your words were dripping with venom. 

         He tried to stay calm himself, trying to keep his voice level, but it was next to impossible. “I want to keep you safe-” 

         “Then why did you come to my apartment? Huh?” You found a way to place yourself even closer to him, and Markus took a step away. “Why did you let me stay at Jericho? Why’d you let me go with you on the march?” 

           _Because things weren’t so bad, then. Because I was being selfish. Because I wanted you to be with me, even when I knew you shouldn’t be._ “Because I love you.” There was no lie in the words, but it took everything for Markus not to wrap his arms around you as he watched you shatter in front of him. Your eyes shimmered, your chest rising and falling heavily as you watched him. Markus bit back his own pain as he watched you process his words. 

         “Then let me help you.” Your voice cracked and you swallowed back a sob. 

         He wanted to. He wanted so _badly_ for you to be by his side, but he had weighed the chances in his mind. Even with the public’s support Markus knew that there would likely be no walking away from this. He was asking his people to march to their deaths because that was all that they had left. But you . . . you could live on. You had a family who cared about you, friends and a future. He couldn’t ask you to throw your life away for this. He wouldn’t _let_ you. 

         “It’s not your fight.” He said, and had only a moment to realise that he’d made the wrong move. 

         Your eyes darkened, any warmth you’d held onto vanishing. “Yes it is.” Your words were deadly serious, edged like they never had been before. “Do you think I don’t care about you? Or Simon? Or North? Or any of them? I do. I want to help you, you can’t just tell me not to-”

        Markus knew he was losing the fight as he spoke your name again, with none of the tenderness from before. He hated how it sounded, but it caught your attention well enough. “We’re not going to survive.” Something in your expression shifted, so small Markus almost didn’t see it. “They’re going to kill us. Whether we attack or not.”

        You looked deflated, but not shocked. Like the thought had crossed your mind, too. “They might not.” You didn’t sound fully convinced of your own words. 

        Markus remained still, his eyes trained on the snowy pavement below. “Even if they _do_ listen to us, I know it won’t be without some death. I won’t take the risk.” He took your hand, squeezing it tightly as he met your eyes. He felt his chest tighten, his own vision going blurry. “There’s enough blood on my hands already. Please don’t make me responsible for yours.” 

        “You wouldn’t be-”

        “Please.” He begged because it was all he could do. “Go home.”

        You shook your head, taking in a staggering breath. “You’re asking me to just forget about you.” 

        The words were loading ammunition into a gun. Markus hated himself for it, but he pulled the trigger. “If that’s what it takes.” 

        He let your hand go.

        You _winced_. Guilt was the immediate reaction, ugly and heavy, but Markus stood his ground. He had to talk you out of this. If this was the way to keep you safe, then so be it. It didn’t matter what you thought of him so long as you were alive when the sun came up. That didn’t make it any less painful for him when you backed up a step. The look of betrayal returned in full force, like Markus had just driven a knife into your heart. 

        You nodded once, tears starting to glisten against your face under the streetlights. Your lips parted like you were about to speak, but closed just as quickly. Then you cast your eyes over the still-drying mural on the wall. It was a momentary glance, over almost as soon as it began, and one that ended when your eyes found Markus’ one last time. The brightness that was there before was gone - iced over and dark like the park behind him. Then, without a word, you turned and walked away, leaving Markus alone with park and the lamp light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Yeap that was rough.  
> I've been struggling with this for a long time, because I do think that Markus would do anything to protect the MC, even if it meant hurting himself. That said, this is not the end. Not by a long shot. 
> 
> I mean, we've established how stubborn the MC is, haven't we?


	14. Once More Into the Fray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus makes his choice. You return to Carl and make a decision of your own.

           It wasn’t a good time to be running through Detroit. There were soldiers patrolling everywhere, more likely to put a bullet in someone’s head than to offer to walk them home. That fact didn’t stop you from wandering the snowy streets, numb to the world. You could have gone home, like Markus wanted. You almost did, but you never made it through the door. Partly to spite him, partly because you genuinely felt lost. So, instead, you let yourself wander the streets you’d grown up on, walking aimlessly through the snow. 

         Part of you - however small and illogical - had decided that you didn’t care if you met the wrong end of a soldier’s gun tonight. 

         That thought came with the realization that you needed to get off of the streets. You needed to think things through before you did something stupid.

         So, you went back to the only place you could think to go. 

         For the second time that night, you found yourself walking up the path to Carl’s house. It was exactly as you left it, down to yours and Markus’ footprints in the snow at your feet, untouched and yet this walk felt entirely different from the one just over an hour ago. Funny, how quickly a few words could turn your world upside down. 

         You rang the doorbell and couldn't help the sigh that escaped you as the door swung open. The synthesized voice chimed your name in a greeting and you moved forward. You allowed yourself to feel glad that you were out of the cold, and that you were at least going to see someone that you cared for. Someone that wouldn’t turn you away.

        The first few steps into the house were hesitant, not helped by the fact that the android Markus had awoken earlier was standing just a few paces away. The two were nothing alike and yet your mind found a connection. _May I take your jacket?_ Markus had been in this android’s position not too long ago. You ground your teeth together, fighting the anger and sadness back down as you looked at the new android. He looked up at you as you walked in, clearly surprised to see you. He stared at you for a moment, his LED blinking yellow. As he spoke, you realized that he had been staring at the little android birds in the cage Carl kept. “You’re back,” he observed, stepping back from the cage to face you fully. He had seen you visit Carl before, but something about the way he looked at you told you he was truly _seeing_ you now. The way June had looked at you back at the church; wide eyes of a new life. 

         _Markus just couldn’t help but change everything he touched, could he?_

        “I’m sorry,” you did your best to make sure that your voice didn’t quiver, “I just . . . I wanted to see him. I don’t have to talk to him - I’ll let him rest - I just . . .” what was there to say? You couldn’t sort out which details to give away and which ones to keep to yourself. It was all one big mess and you were at its center. 

        Fortunately, by whatever grace you had left, the android’s eyes softened. “He has just gone to sleep, but you can go up if you’d like.” 

        In any other situation, you might have paid more attention to how _lost_ he sounded. Now though, with the pain in your chest and the way the world blurred around you, you found that you didn’t much care.  You thanked him numbly and turned towards the stairs, oblivious to the android’s eyes staying on you. 

        Despite the android’s advisement that Carl might be asleep, you found him awake when the door opened. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, like he was deep in thought. At least, he was until you walked in. Then his focus was on you and you alone. He looked like he was about to ask what was going on - maybe even where Markus was. You couldn’t say whether it was your eyes that gave it away or it was the fact that you were alone, but whatever it was, Carl’s eyes immediately softened when he looked at you. 

        It was the final blow against any control you had. All the anger and pain that you had swallowed down came roaring to the surface, your eyes squeezing shut against it all. You ground your teeth together so tight your jaw hurt, and dug your nails into your palm. Amid all the mess inside your head you almost didn’t hear Carl calling out to you. When you finally opened your eyes, finding it in yourself to breathe again, all you found was Carl looking at you with all the sympathy in the world, his hand outstretched towards you. 

        Gathering as much willpower as you could, you made your way over to him and took the hand he offered you, sitting on the edge of his bed. 

        You were caught up in the familiarity of it all, for a moment.  _Just like the day he died,_ you thought, a whisper from somewhere inside your head. And just like that day, you came running to the one man who you thought could talk you through it. “What happened?” Carl asked, when he deemed you ready to talk. 

        What _had_ happened? 

        You weren’t even sure where to begin. You couldn’t piece together where the feeling of pure joy had ended and where the hurt began, it happened so fast. It had been enough to give you whiplash. _That_ was what hurt the most. You hadn’t seen it coming. You had gambled on the fact that Markus would want you by his side until the end, whether that end was happy or not. 

        A fool’s gambit. One that lost you the game and a piece of yourself in the process. 

       “He said I should forget about him.” The words sounded so dry. So factual, you almost surprised yourself. “He said that it wasn’t my fight and that I should go home.” 

        You watched Carl’s face shift as you spoke. You found some unpleasant feeling coiling in your stomach when you saw how unsurprised he looked. Like he had expected this to happen. 

       “Markus has had his life turn itself inside out more times in the last few days than most men do in their whole life times. He’s trying to do what’s best for his people,” Carl gave a feeble squeeze to your hand, “but he’s also trying to keep everything from falling apart. He did it to keep you safe." 

        You knew that. Even if you didn't want to acknowledge it, you knew. That didn't change how little sense it made to you. "That makes it okay?" Desperate, helpless, _hurt_. Things you were usually so good at hiding were now unmistakable in your voice. 

        "No, it doesn't." Carl gave you a thin-lipped smile. "But I think he knew you wouldn't leave his side for anything less." 

        Another truth that you would rather not face. "I wouldn't have." You admitted, swallowing hard. 

        Carl thought for a moment, studying you with a fatherly affection that melted some of the ice around you. "Markus thinks that the world is going to destroy him because he's different. You don't have to look far back in history to see where he got that idea from. I've lived a long time," he gave a wry half-smile, "and I've learned that nothing in the world is as black and white as it seems. Markus and his people are _different_ , but they are people. They are alive. There are already those who see that, all the world needs is a push in the right direction."

        He looked at you with a knowing expression, and your focus snapped in understanding. "He doesn't want me there-"

        "Yes, he does. But what really matters is what _you_ want. What kind of a world do you want?" 

        The question that had started it all, you supposed. You hadn't gone to Jericho just because you loved Markus. You hadn't carried Simon back, or stolen biocomponents _just_ for Markus. You'd done it for all of them. All of the androids who the world had decided weren't worthy of choice. You'd done it because you had been silently told your whole life that you didn't matter, either. You wanted a world where that didn't happen to you or anyone else.

        Carl, from the way he looked at you, already knew your answer. 

        You took a breath, your mind made up. You didn't steel yourself, didn't seal your heart up against the pain or the fear. You were going to walk into the fire bare. Let the world see you for you. You weren't a fighter, you weren't an iconic figure from the history books. You were a girl who was willing to fight for what she loved. You had been given nothing but the strength of your own heart, and you were going to use it to shake the world. "If I don't make it back, will you tell him he's an idiot for me?" One last joke. Unless the opportunity for another presented itself, of course. 

        There was no hesitation in Carl's answer. "Tell him yourself."

        You had every intention of doing just that. 

        -----

       A number of androids had arrived at the church in the time since Markus left. The crumbling building had filled nearly to the brim, androids stretching from one end to the other. Still, even with all of those bodies, the space felt empty. The air was heavy with defeat. Jericho was destroyed - the beacon of hope for so many awakened androids was gone. How much hope could there be for those that remained? Even Markus felt  the dread building among his people. 

        The fact that you were no longer by his side only made it worse. 

        North hadn’t taken it well. Not that Markus had expected her to. He knew that, in the brief time she'd known  you, North had come to respect you. She liked you, whether she wanted to openly admit it or not. 

          Josh was more quiet with his disapproval, as with all things. Markus could tell that the decision didn't sit well with him, but he didn’t speak against it overtly. 

        Simon had surprised him. "I'll miss her," he had said with a mournful understanding. "But I'm glad I met her. I thought that the humans all abandoned us, she proved me wrong. She proved a lot of us wrong." 

        The sentiment might have made Markus smile, given different circumstances. That was something about you that Markus knew all too well; the ability to show others that you were more than what they thought. You had done it with his people, and now Markus hoped that you would do it with the rest of the world. He hoped that you found a way to leave your mark. 

        He hoped that, someday, you could forgive him.

        Your bag of spray paints sat beside him, a grim reminder of what he’d done. Markus didn’t look at it. He didn’t look into the crowd of expectant androids searching for answers. He sat alone at the far end of the church,  keeping his head down. The last few moments of quiet before the storm. 

        He was about to lead his people to their salvation or their death. There was no room for middle ground, he supposed. Maybe with Connor’s plan to infiltrate the CyberLife Tower, things could be swayed in their favor. That would depend on them surviving long enough for the RK800 to return. A slim chance, if any. It all came down to what he decided. 

        Some part of him wanted vengeance. Blood for blood, justice for the lives that the humans had destroyed. He might have given that order, before tonight. He might have organized an attack on the camps to free his people, and they would follow him. Even Markus couldn’t say that the choice was wrong. Fighting for one’s freedom wasn’t evil, it wasn’t malevolent. 

        It also wasn’t _him._  

         _Don’t let them change you._ Your words echoed, even now. Your last piece of advice to him, and what he held close as he rose to deliver his final message. The last call to action for his people, the question he hadn’t dared to ask until now. 

        The reverent silence of the church was broken as Markus spoke, “Humans have decided to exterminate us. Our people are packed in camps right now, being destroyed. The time has come to make a choice; one that very well could determine the future of our people.” He looked out into the crowd, into the faces that were shared among so many of his people. There would be no turning back after this, no course-correct. The final leap of faith.  “I know, I know you’re all angry. And I know you wanna fight back . . . but I assure you, violence is not the answer here. We are going to tell them _peacefully_ that we want justice.” A few faces shifted, but Markus forced himself forward. _Don’t let them change you. Face the abyss, but don’t let it consume you._ “If there is any humanity in them, they will listen. And if not, others will take our place and continue this fight.” It was the only assurance he could give them, and it wasn’t much. “Are you ready to follow me?”

         That was the remarkable thing about faith, though. Even with the odds against them, even with all that they had lost already, all that they stood to lose, when Markus asked, the androids answered in an uproar. They cheered his name, the power of their voices combined was enough to shake the skies. 

         Markus stood before them all, all his people who had chosen to follow him. 

          _All but one_. 

         It wouldn’t pay to think of it now; Markus knew that. Any distraction could be deadly. Still, for the briefest moment, he allowed himself one last remembrance of you. He thought of the fire in your eyes, the warmth of your smile. There were equal parts pain and joy in your memory.  Even if he should die tonight, or if he never saw you again, he would do so knowing that you were safe. 

         He closed his eyes, thinking of your voice as you sang. Reminding himself why he was doing this; the chance at a normal life. For himself, for his people and for you. 

         Then, bringing himself back to the present, Markus opened his eyes. 

         In moments, the church that had been so full of androids was emptied, a mass of bodies moving out into the streets of Detroit. The cry of voices that had filled the air just moments ago was gone, replaced now by a determined silence. 

         A death march, if humanity deemed it so. Death or the beginning of a new age. 

         Whichever it was, Markus walked towards it with his head held high, your fire in his heart and the memory of your song in his mind. 

         -----

         The city had never been so quiet. 

         In all of your years in Detroit, you had learned the city never really sleeps. It may have been quiet, but that didn't mean that things weren't happening. This was the kind of stillness that takes the forest when hunters move through it. You were understanding more and more why animals jumped at the drop of a hat. _Better safe than dead_ , you reminded yourself. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing to be on edge. 

        A patrol car passed and you ducked into the shadows, avoiding the headlights as they danced off the walls. 

         You couldn't remember ever staying so still as you waited for your opportunity, even holding your breath so the cold air wouldn't give you away. Then, when the car was gone, you set out again with a brisk pace. You were a woman on a mission, intent on accomplishing it. 

         The only problem was that you didn't know _exactly_ where you were going. 

          You knew that whatever was happening was probably going to happen at one of the android camps across the city. That narrowed it down, but not enough to know for sure which direction you should go. Markus had wanted it to be that way, you supposed. Less of a chance of you getting hurt if you didn't even know where things were going down. 

           _Well, tough luck, love._ Not knowing all the details had never stopped you before, and you didn't intend for it to stop you now.

          So, you had decided to take your chances and head back to the church. Even if they had already left, maybe there would be some clue, or even a few stragglers left to tell you where to go. It wasn't much, but it was the hope that kept you moving through the snow, the light crunch of it beneath your shoes the only thing disturbing the silence. 

         Until you heard a second pair of footsteps - considerably heavier than your own - that set ice to your blood. Whoever it was was around the corner ahead of you. A few days ago, you might have turned tail and ran. It was what most people would do, you supposed; ensure your own survival above all else. Now, after everything you’d been through, your first reaction was to press yourself against the building beside you, coiling to strike. Flight becoming fight as you quietly wondered whether you would even make it to the demonstration with Markus. 

          There was a hushed whisper and the footsteps stopped, your breathing along with them. 

          Had they heard you? Most likely, given their pause. 

 _Friend or foe?_ Whoever they were, they seemed to be asking the same question.

          Silence washed over the street as you waited, and you resisted the urge to swallow the lump in your throat. As you balled your fists at your side, you had the grim realization that you had nothing else to defend yourself with. Still, you narrowed your eyes and felt your muscles tense. 

          A step from around the corner. 

          The stark contrast of a black coat against the silver snow - and the massive outline of whoever it belonged to. Your heart lodged itself firmly in your throat even as your mind pieced together that it was not soldiers that had found you. 

           No, not soldiers at all.

           “ _Luther_?” You breathed as the hulking android came into full view. For a moment, you were afraid that he might not recognize you, with the watchful look he gave you. Again you found yourself relieved when his eyes softened, your name cutting through the silence and spoken with surprise. You were struck by how bright his smile was, despite everything. _He made it through Jericho_. “Good to see you,” you smiled, noticing the other person - likely an android - at his side. You didn’t recognize him, and there was no sign of Luther’s former companion. Your gut sank. “Where’s Alice?” 

          “She’s safe, I hope.” There was a chance, then. 

          That was all anyone could ask for, you supposed. Your gaze fell on the other android, taking him in fully. You’d seen his model before, you realized, on those few times when you’d accompanied Markus into Bellini Paints and at Jericho. He had a childlike innocence about him that didn’t quite reach his eyes, his cheeks impossibly round and a beanie covering his hair. “What’s your name?” you asked, watching as his eyes lit up bit at being included. 

           “Jerry,” he answered in an all too chipper way. Still, it made you smile, and that was something. 

           “Where are you guys going? Markus’ protest?” 

         Luther shook his head. “We’re headed for the border. I’m meeting Alice and Kara at the Terminal.” 

         Your brow knitted together. “Well do you know where it’s happening?” You pressed, not really realizing how frantic you sounded. 

          Luther looked back to Jerry, a silent question in his eyes. The smaller android answered. “No, we haven’t seen anyone since Jericho.” 

          Again you found yourself grimacing a bit.  Back to square one-

          The sound of tires against snow and cement thrashed you out of your thoughts, and too late you turned to see a patrol car swinging into the street, the headlights flashing directly into your eyes.  Fear rose up in you, but a plan of action met it in full force. It might have been surprising to you - how quickly you managed to overwrite your fear - if you had time to acknowledge it. “Stay close to me.” The order fell from your lips before either of the androids could get a word in. As you turned to face them you noticed their eyes wide with worry but trained on you. Waiting to see your next move. 

           With a final, encouraging nod, you started walking, facing the oncoming headlights. Your heart struck your ribs like a drum, playing a quickening beat against your steady foot falls. You could run. You could turn the other way and try your luck; every bone in your body was begging you to do just that. 

           _Running means you’re guilty, and I don’t think they’re looking to take people in for questioning tonight._

          So, you walked. You kept your head down, slowing so that Luther and Jerry were on either side of you as you headed back the way you came. The car drew closer, pulling to a stop just ahead of you and twisting your nerves into knots. 

          Then you heard the shouting. Gunfire followed. 

          Your whole body tensed as you looked for the source, relieved when you realized that it hadn't been directed at you. Up the street you heard more tires against snow as armored trucks drove past. Silhouettes of a few soldiers came into view, marching across the intersection you had just come from. 

          None of that was as worrying as the three soldiers that stepped out of the car in front of you, their focus immediately falling on the three of you. 

          “Stop,” one of them ordered. With the guns that the group carried, you knew that you really had no choice but to obey. _Just stay calm. You have nothing to hide . . . except two androids._ Two of the group made their way over to you, the third continuing down the opposite direction. Your eyes narrowed for a brief second as you weighed the possibilities. You could fight. Luther was huge and there were three of you against two of them, assuming the third made it out of earshot. 

          Not the greatest idea, you decided. 

          You would have to stick with Plan A. 

          The soldiers stopped in front of your trio and you offered them a smile - one that you _really_ hoped didn’t look forced. With the helmets they were wearing, there was no way to tell how it was received. “What can I do for you?" You asked, your voice as steady as you could manage. 

          The soldier looked over your group before he answered. "We have orders to check all civilians. Need to see some identification." 

          You gave a single nod, looking back at Luther as you fished into your pockets. He nodded back as he pulled out his own card, and you allowed some relief to wash in. It turned to ice as you reached into your last pocket and found it empty. _Jericho,_ you realized, your eyes going wide. With everything that had happened, you realized that you couldn't remember the last place you'd seen your ID. "I . . ." _fuck fuck_ fuck, "I had it right here . . ." Again, you found yourself looking for an indication that the soldiers believed what you were saying, only to be met by their expressionless helmets. 

           _Shit not now, please not now-_

          "You might have left it at work," Jerry offered, and your eyes went back to him, a spark of gratefulness in them. 

           "Maybe," you agreed, continuing to check your pockets on the off chance that you had missed it somewhere. 

           The soldiers didn't seem to appreciate the excuse. "Take your hands out of your pockets and keep them where I can see them," his voice was cold, not helped by the fact that he had raised his gun and trained it on you. 

            "We were walking her home," Luther spoke up, not hiding the urgency in his voice. "We didn't want her to be out here by herself-"

            "It's ok," you blurted out, an idea popping into your head. "I'm human, I'll prove it." Slowly, you pointed to the ever throbbing bruise on your cheek. "See? Androids don't get bruised." 

           There was a moment's hesitation in the soldiers, both shifting to examine your cheek. You let yourself hope that it was a good sign. You considered yourself fortunate when neither of them asked where you got that particular injury, and you thanked your lucky stars when the soldiers exchanged a small nod. They lowered their guns, and you let yourself breathe again. “You should be more careful where you leave things,” the one closest to you said. _Dick,_ you thought, but leashed in the impulse to voice the comment. 

          Instead, you nodded feverishly. “I will, I’m sorry.” 

         The only response you got from either soldier was a nod, 

         Taking the opportunity, you looked back at Luther and Jerry, exchanging looks and silently agreeing that it was time to go. You gave the soldiers a final nod and began on your way. You made it two steps and you let yourself think that you were in the clear. You should have known better by now. 

         “Wait,” the word might as well have been a noose. You obeyed, hoping that the stiffness of your muscles would go unnoticed. You turned to face the soldiers again, holding your breath. “Your hat,” one stepped forward, gesturing with the barrel of his weapon to the beanie on Jerry’s head, “take it off.” 

          The noose tightened. 

          Jerry looked first to Luther, his doe eyes going wider than you thought possible. You knew that not all deviants removed their LED; you had seen enough of them in Jericho who wore them with pride. It had struck you as a bit foolish at the time. Now, you could only watch in horror as Jerry looked for a suggestion of what to do. When he found no answer, he looked to you in desperation. You wished that you could give him some way out of this. In that moment, you could never remember wishing for  anything so much.

          _But you know what Dad says about wishes . . ._

          “It’s me.” You spoke just as Jerry began to reach up to his forehead. “I’m an android.” 

          The silence that followed was the kind that made your gut squeeze. For how short-lived it really was, it felt agonizingly long to you. The span of time that you could live and die in. You sat in that silence and wondered if those words had just condemned you. Luther opened his mouth to protest but the soldiers broke the silence first. 

          “Hands up, all of you!” 

          The guns were back in your face, bright lights blinding you. 

          “No-” you tried to protest, “It's just me!”  You heard an electrical whirring, saw a flash of a red light through the white. “Please, they haven’t done anything wrong!” Your voice was breaking and you didn’t notice the way your vision blurred from the formation of tears. There was a chime as the light passed over Luther, and another for Jerry. Silence for you, this one even shorter and more bitter than the one before.   

            _I was so close._

           You barely had time to reflect on the fact that this was _not_ a good night before the soldiers ordered you to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE MADE IT TO 100 KUDOS! Thank you so much guys, the support for this series has been unbelievable! I'm so thankful that all of you have read this, it means so much to me!


	15. City of Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus' final march has begun. Detroit is in the midst of making history, but you, as always, have run into some complications.

           As a child, you’d been fascinated with how your own breath turned to fog when it got cold enough. Most kids were, you supposed, remembering how you used to stand in circles, marveling at the way the hot air looked when it hit the cold. As with most things, you’d grown to pay it less and less mind - no sense in wasting thought over something so normal. 

          Now, as you rested on your knees in the snow, your hands interlaced behind your head and a gun trained on you, you found that your fascination with your breath had returned in full force. Not for the reasons you had liked it as a child, though. No, now it was something else entirely. 

           For one, it was something to distract you from the pain. Your head still ached from the hit you’d taken, but more than that your arms were beginning to shake from the position you’d been holding them in. Worst of all were your knees, though. The continued pressure, coupled with the wet cold from the snow beneath you was enough to make you want to scream. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there but you didn’t dare to move. Not with the assault rifle that lingered just inches away from your head. So, you had watched the fog rise in front of your face with each breath you took. It was a distraction, yes, but also a reminder that you were still _alive_. 

        However long you stayed that way.  

        You were just glad that Jerry and Luther were still with you in the land of the living. Many of the androids that they had rounded up so far weren’t so lucky. 

         The snow around you was stained with blue, bodies cutting out black shapes against the white. The silence was only so often intercut by pops of gunfire. Sometimes they would be far enough away that you didn’t have to witness the executions. Other times, you were forced to watch as androids were gunned down for no reason other than wanting to be free. 

          Horrible was the only word that you could really use to describe it. The inhumanity of it all, the unjustness . . . it was the sort of thing that made you wonder whether humans would ever be any better than animals.  

           _If Markus fails . . . if he gets caught . . ._

          You looked away as a gunshot cut through the air some ways away from you, focusing on the grey-white of your breath. _You’re still here._ A body hitting the street threatened to pull you back into the real world. _You’re still alive._ Now, you just had to convince yourself that there was a way out.  

          “Any word on orders?” the soldier above you asked, his voice quiet like he was speaking to someone just in front of him. Orders concerning you, no doubt. What to do with the human that tried to protect two androids? You supposed the fact that they hadn’t shot you was something to be grateful for. Still, it was hard to be optimistic when you were sitting on your knees in front of men with guns. 

          You tried not to let the soldier know that you were listening in, keeping your gaze fixed on the snow in front of you. All the while, your focus was on him, trying to get some sense of what was to come. You didn’t hear the answer - just a buzz of static and a muffled mumble. You didn’t bother hiding your disappointment. 

          Probably wasn’t good news, either way. 

          Still, knowing might be better than leaving it up to your imagination. The irrational part of you imagined being shot and left for dead in the snow. However unlikely it might be, it was hard not to think of it when it was happening to androids all around you. 

          Unlikely for _you_. Not so for Luther or Jerry. 

          Neither of them had made a sound or spoken a word since the three of you had been caught. It was wiser that way, you knew. Less likely to die the less noise any of you made. You had stolen a few glances towards them when the soldier guarding you looked away, checking in to make sure that they were alright. As alright as they _could_ be, anyway. It wasn’t exactly a high bar. 

          Luther was the closest to you. As the soldier turned away, you risked a look over at him, silently asking if he could make out what the person on the other side of the radio was saying. 

          His eyes, big and brown, found your own and you discovered that your optimism could, in fact, be crushed even more. He grimaced, looking over at the soldier for the briefest of moments before returning his gaze to you. If he _could_ hear what the soldier’s orders were, it was nothing good. 

          Jerry must have seen the exchange, turning towards the two of you. 

          The defeated look he gave you broke your heart. 

           _They might die. They could die right in front of me and there’s nothing I can do._ You had seen plenty of death in the last few days, but there was something fundamentally different about the situation you were in now than the march or the raid on Jericho. Those were deaths. If Luther and Jerry died now . . . it would be an execution. You would be able to see the life leave their eyes . . .

          No. You weren’t going to let it happen. One way or another, you were getting them out of this. 

          A very, _very_ stupid idea took shape in your head. 

          The soldier continued to speak to his fellow over the radio, and you shifted. Your knees throbbed as you moved, but you ignored the pain as you began to lower your arms. Your eyes were fixed on the soldier - on the gun that he now held with just one hand. So great was your concentration that you almost didn’t hear Luther as he whispered your name. 

           “Don’t.” It was as much an order as it was a plea. “It’s not worth it.” 

           But it was. Two lives versus one . . . there was no comparison to be made. Simple math. You just hoped that, somehow, word got to Markus. 

           You shook your head, about to insist when you saw the soldier turn out of the corner of your eye. “That’s enough!” he ordered, training the gun on Luther. Every muscle in your body went tense as you waited for the gunshot. “Next one to talk gets a bullet. Understand?” He waved his gun between the two androids, keeping it decidedly away from you. 

            You barely had time to start thinking of a new plan before movement in the shadows set you still. You could make out the shape of someone - petit and with short cropped hair - reaching out to take hold of something lying in the snow. A brick, you realized. You had to stop your eyes from widening, afraid that you might give away what might save your life. And against every instinct you had, every past experience that told you that luck wasn’t on your side, you let yourself hope that whoever this was, they were going to help. 

            She - a _she_ , you realized - moved slowly forward, her newfound weapon held to the ready at her side. 

            It happened fast.

            The woman swung, the brick colliding with the soldier’s head. For a moment you thought that it wouldn’t be enough; that the helmet protect him. 

            Your fear proved needless when he fell with a pained grunt, sprawling on the snowy street. 

            The moment he hit the ground the three of you were up. The pain in your arms and legs washed  away, leaving a dull ache behind. Relief flooded you, enough to make you want to cry. _You might make it_. You stared at the fallen soldier, ready to bolt if he showed any signs of getting back up. When he remained still, you turned your attention to your savior. 

            She was an android, that much you recognized immediately. You’d seen her model around Jericho, though never her specifically. Beyond her short-cropped hair, there was undoubtedly something about her that set her apart from the other androids that shared her face. _It’s her eyes_ , you decided. _Those are the eyes of someone who’s seen too much._  

            “Kara!” Luther practically sprang forward, taking the woman’s hands with all his former gentleness. You recognized the name. He mentioned her before you'd been caught.  “You shouldn't have risked your life to save me . . .” his happiness betrayed the false beration. "Where's Alice?" His question caught your attention, as you remembered the quiet little girl who had been with him. 

            “She’s hiding nearby.” 

           You breathed out in silent relief. Being a kid in the middle of all of this . . . you couldn’t imagine that. It was hard enough when you knew what was going on.  

           “Kara you saved us!” Jerry’s smile shined in full force. “We don’t know how to thank you.” 

           “Go, before they see you.” Kara hurried the android along with the voice of a mother. 

           With an obedient nod Jerry began to turn, only stopping when he caught your eye. “Thank you,” he said to you, “you were very brave.” 

            All you could think to do was shake your head. You had been many things, but you didn’t think that brave was one of them. “Be safe,” you wished him softly, knowing how hard that was going to end up being. Still, even with all that was going on Jerry gave you a heart-warming smile before wishing you the same. 

             _Easier said than done._  

            Jerry turned and ran and you thought about following until you heard another set of footsteps coming towards you. 

            “Alice!” 

            You turned just in time to see the tiny shape of a child barrel into Luther, engulfed in his arms. “Luther! I thought you were dead!” You couldn’t help but smile, letting out a small laugh of relief.

            The hug they shared was warm enough to stave off the cold of the night. He knelt in front of her - as close to her eye level as he could get - and smiled. “I was afraid I’d never see you again!” Alice, who had struck you with such overwhelming sadness when you first met her, smiled back at Luther with the love only a child could have. “I wanted to meet you at the terminal but they caught me along the way.” He looked up at you, giving you a thankful smile. “She risked her life for us.” 

        You were suddenly aware of Kara’s eyes on you, a momentary flash of suspicion that was quickly replaced with gratefulness. “Thank you for helping him,” she said, her voice was strained. She was in a hurry, you could tell. 

        Likewise.

        “You should hurry,” you said to no one in particular. “Before they see you.” 

        “What about you?” Alice surprised you when she spoke up, looking up to you with eyes that were far too big. 

        You shrugged. “I’ll be alright,” your words didn’t quite sound true. Being alright wasn’t something that seemed to be in your prospects tonight, whether you could find Markus or not. _But if Luther didn’t know where he was, maybe . . ._ “Kara,” you urged, trying to keep your voice low, “there’s going to be a march on one of the camps. Markus is leading it. I have to get there. Do you know which one it is?” 

         Kara’s eyes went narrow as she thought. “Yes,” she nodded, “Markus is at Hart Plaza. Everyone from Jericho was heading there when we left.” 

          She had barely finished the sentence and you were already mapping out a route in your head. Even so, they would probably beat you there. You didn’t have the benefit of an army at your back. 

          “It’s going to be dangerous,” Luther’s voice was full of caution. “And getting there-”

          You shook your head, shutting out any doubts of fear. You didn’t have room for either. “I have to be there.” Both he and Kara looked like they might object; try to tell you that you were walking into certain death, or that there were other ways to help their people. The look you gave them in return stopped their objections. “There’s no other choice. Not for me.” 

          Whether they agreed or not, both Kara and Luther seemed to understand that much. 

          “Take care.” Luther finally said with a small but knowing smile. 

          You did your best to return it. “You too. All of you.” 

          Luther turned away first, Alice in tow behind him. The little girl gazed up at you for a moment, almost transfixed before looking back forward at the street before her. Kara was the last, observing you with a puzzled look. Like she was on the verge of figuring you out but couldn’t quite make sense of it all. You weren’t sure you could, either, if you were being honest with yourself.

          “Thank you,” you whispered to her, letting urgency fall into your words.  

          The smile the woman gave you was just short of true. _She and I could share some stories,_ you realized. Kara was a woman trying to love in a world on fire, just as much as you were. Your love may have been a different kind, but your struggles weren’t so far apart. Not now, anyway. 

            _Well the world can go fuck itself. It hasn’t heard the last of us yet._  

         Kara turned away, rejoining her family as they crept through the snow. You wasted no time heading in the opposite direction, away from the soldiers and bodies they’d left behind. No matter how many you passed tonight, you decided that you would do everything in your power to stop more from falling. If the people in power would do nothing to stop the slaughter, it was up to people like you to do something. 

          So, you made your way through the streets of the city you grew up in. The beating heart of all your best and worst memories, the place that had shaped you into who you are now. 

           This was a trial by fire. One that you knew would either break you or forge you into something stronger. You weren't alone, though. Markus, North, Simon, Josh, June, Luther, Kara . . . all of them. You and all the androids in Detroit would walk that fire together. 

           Your old world was gone. Burned down by the blaze. 

            It was time to rise from those ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I had a bit of a crazy week.   
> In other news though, we're fast approaching the end! Thank you all so much for reading, I wouldn't do it if not for you guys!


	16. The Barricade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You reach the barricade, and the end begins.

        You hadn’t expected the end of the world to look so calm. 

        The entire journey to Hart Plaza you had been preparing yourself for the worst, for gunfire and death. You were surprised when you found things quiet; snow drifting slowly over a makeshift barricade and the androids moving within. Then you saw the bodies - androids who had already been killed, a dusting of snow blanketing them. 

         You pressed on, wondering if seeing so many left for dead on the pavement would ever get easier. _Probably not,_ you thought, sticking to the shadows and hiding behind cars. There was nothing you could do for them now but make their deaths worth something. 

         Taking in a breath of freezing air - trying to ignore the ache in your bones and the lightness in your head - you sprinted across the square. You counted yourself lucky that there weren’t more than a few soldiers on your side of the barricade; just enough to watch Markus and his people for signs of movement. You were even _more_ lucky that they were more focused on the androids inside that barricade than anything going on outside. You used that to your advantage as you neared the barricade, more and more of the android’s last defense coming into view.

          _I’ve seen this in a movie somewhere,_ you thought. A song that went along with it came to mind as you crept  across Hart Plaza. A song about angry men. 

         You also remembered that movie not ending so well for them. 

          _Eyes on the prize._  

         If anyone noticed you slip into the barricade, they didn’t voice it. Not right away, anyway. Most of the androids there were focused on fixing up the barriers around them, using anything and everything they could find to do it. Cars, benches, even some dumpsters were becoming part of the defense, arranged in a circle around the group. In hindsight, it probably shouldn’t have been as easy as it was to slip in. It didn’t exactly make you feel optimistic, but then you couldn’t complain if it got you here. 

         Somehow, things inside the barricade looked even more bleak than outside. 

         A few more bodies were grouped towards the edges, and even more in the center of it all. Probably ones whose deaths had taken longer than those on the street. It brought back memories of the march that you thought you had since outgrown. Memories of the death looming over you and everyone else like a shadow. Despite everything, you found yourself at least a bit thankful that you hadn’t been there when the demonstration began. The thought of just walking towards machine gun fire again . . . at least if something happened now you would be able to _do_ something about it. 

         There couldn’t have been more than a few dozen androids here. A far cry from the number that had been at the church, even when you left. You wondered whether they had gone to demonstrate outside the other camps . . . and whether they were still alive. 

         This group had already been fired on, that much was very clear. _But why had they stopped there?_  

         The flashes of reporters cameras solved part of the equation. _Wouldn’t_ _want to make a scene on national TV._ _Not anymore than they already have, I guess._ Still, reporters could have been at any one of the camps. These androids were being spared for a reason.

         And that reason was making his way across the snow, his long white coat separating him from the rest of the crowd. He was beautiful as ever but more resigned than you had ever seen him.  

 _Markus_.

         It only took one glance at him for your stomach to twist in some strange feeling between rage and joy. Relief and panic, contempt and love, all at once. Enough for you to freeze, standing with your mouth gaping open like an idiot. You debated whether or not to call out to him. Or run up and hug him. And then punch him. Maybe the other way around . . . a hundred scenarios running through your head. 

         Before you had the chance to choose any of them, a soft voice behind you spoke your name. You turned only to meet a familiar pair of too-kind blue eyes. 

         “Simon,” you breathed, trying to control how wide your eyes went. You weren’t sure how much he knew . . .

         His smile - small but true - was enough for you to put aside your worries. Even if only for a moment. The hug that followed was even better. You let yourself huff out a laugh as you wrapped your arms around him, a stabbing pain in your chest. Who would have thought that you would find such friends among androids? Who would have thought that you would be willing to die alongside them? 

       “I’m glad you’re here,” Simon grinned, pulling back. Suddenly, his eyes went serious. “Markus, does he-” _Ah, so he_ does _know._

       “Not yet.” You shook your head, looking over your shoulder at the man in question. He was being handed something by two androids - North and Simon lookalikes, you realized - before making his way to the edge of the barricade. “I just got here.” Simon understood, if his expression was anything to go by. “What did I miss?” you asked, trying to keep your voice sounding chipper - and failing for the most part. 

       Simon grimaced. “They’ve been watching us. They haven’t fired again, but . . .” his gaze drifted to the other side of the barricade where soldiers waited just beyond, “I don’t think that’s going to last long.” 

       You could agree on that point. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon. 

       The mechanical whir of a projector powering up and the blue light that washed over the snow only confirmed that. You and Simon both spun to look at what was going on, finding the sky alight with a holographic banner. Markus stood at the bottom of it, gazing up at the words emblazoned there. 

        WE ARE ALIVE

        The rallying cry for their cause, the idea that started it all. 

         “He’s dramatic as ever, I see.” You grinned, hoping that your humor hid your hurt. 

         You heard Simon hum in agreement behind you. “He can’t afford to be anything less.” He paused, coming up to your side. “I just hope that they decide that we’re worth saving.” 

        The thought, however grim, was a valid one. It wasn’t really up to you or any of the androids what happened next. They were at the mercy of the world. A world that wasn’t exactly _known_ for its mercy. 

        Beyond the translucent flag, you could see the reporters’ cameras flashing, hear their murmured awe. You could only hope that that was a good sign. You knew that there were people out there who sympathized with Markus and his people. Now it was just a matter of whether the people in charge did. 

         You narrowly avoided being seen as Markus  turned the other direction, heading back towards the side where closests to the soldiers. It was only when you saw the new angle of him that you noticed the bullet wounds, the blue blood from them dripping down and staining his jacket blue. 

         Your heart stopped. 

         Seeing him hurt - no matter how angry at him you might be - never got easier. _He’s still alive. He’s up and walking,_ you reminded yourself. If he was clinging to life, Simon would have said something. You and he both would be at Markus’ side, not hiding in the crowd. _Maybe that’s where we should be anyway._  

         “I don't know if we're going to make it out of this one," there was something different in Simon's voice. A fatalistic lilt. The way a person speaks when they know nothing matters anymore. 

          "We've never known, though." You mused, recalling how many times in the last few days alone that you might have died. "That's always been the risk, I guess." 

           Simon almost smiled. "I guess it has been." The android looked to the holographic flag, at the words emblazoned in the sky and gave a wistful smile. "You know, I never thought any human would stand by our side. I never thought I would be able to call any of them my friend." Even with everything that was threatening to go wrong, the implication made you smile. Luther had been right. Sometimes all it takes  is knowing that you weren’t alone. You weren't alone, and neither were the androids. You were glad that, if nothing else, you could give them that.

          “Glad I could prove you wrong," your intention was good natured despite the snark of your reply. Simon seemed to catch on to that much. 

          “So am I.” He paused for a moment the troubled look in his eyes telling you that he was weighing an option in his mind. His uncanny ability to look sad resurfaced. “You should see Markus. I don’t know how much time we have, and he’ll want to talk with you.” 

          On instinct, you thought up a witty response about Markus’ actions indicating otherwise, but let it stay unvoiced. Simon was right. Carl was right. It was the reason you were here, after all, and it shouldn’t have made you as nervous as it did. Time to stop stalling. 

          You had stolen from CyberLife.

          You had helped fugitives run from the law.

          You had faced down machine guns and SWAT teams. 

          You could suck it up and speak to Markus. 

          “I’ll talk to him.” You assured Simon - and yourself, for that matter. Then you switched gears. “Be careful tonight. Please.” Seriousness was becoming a part of you more and more, you realized. Still, you figured that everyone could probably use the reminder today. 

          Simon looked like he was about to nod; like he was about to agree but then realized that he couldn’t. “You too,” he said, leaving you both with an impossible task. Still, it was the thought that counted. It was knowing that there were people out there who wanted you to live another day, no matter how likely or unlikely that was. “Go on,” Simon’s eyes flicked past you again, towards where you were sure Markus stood. 

         You gave the blond android one last smile, then a nod. _Here goes nothing_. 

         Two steps were all you managed to take before another familiar voice cut through the air. “Markus!” You turned, spotting North standing on the edge of the barricade, looking over the edge. _Into the abyss_. “Markus, come look!” 

        Markus moved, climbing the elevated platform and coming to North’s side. He stopped just in time for another voice to call out into the night. “Markus!” Whoever it was, you didn’t recognize them. A human, no doubt, and likely not interested in having a civil chat. “I’ve come to talk to you, Markus. Come on, you have my word, they won’t try anything.” 

         _Bullshit_ was your immediate reaction. If your siblings had taught you one thing, it was that the phrase ‘I won’t try anything’ was about as trustworthy as a campaigning politician. From Simon’s expression, he thought something similar. _They’re just trying to get him to come to them. There’s no way he’ll give them that edge-_

        Once again, Markus found a way to subvert your expectations as you watched him climb the barricade and disappear over the edge. 

          _Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me._

         -----

         Markus knew what was going to be asked of him before he stepped out into the street. 

         The media presence had been what saved them before, he had no illusions about that. The army hadn’t wiped out the androids behind the barricade because of the cameras trained on them.  And now a human was asking to speak with Markus alone? He expected the demand even before the words were in the air. 

          “Surrender.” The man - Richard Perkins - was simple in his response. The choice laid out before him. “Surrender and I give you my word, your life will be spared. They’ll be detained, but none of you will be destroyed.” 

          It was an easy lie. One that Markus had expected to hear at least once in all of this. Even through all of the rhetoric that Perkins used, the false hope and fear he tried to instill, Markus reminded himself that he knew that this was coming. He had prepared himself for this. Still, the promise of life for those that remained . . . it was enough to make Markus pause. How many of them were left, with the other demonstrators gone? When would the blood that was spilled be enough? 

          If they were allowed to live, to find normal lives . . . 

          But then it would all have been for nothing. All the sacrifices his people had made, all the death and suffering would be worthless. 

          He’d known his answer before the question was asked, too. 

          “I’d rather die here than betray my people.” Markus found strength despite what he knew his words meant. 

          Perkins might have smirked. “Well, you just signed your own death warrant.” 

          Walking back to the barricade, Markus couldn't help but think that Perkins was right. But then, that had been the risk all along. He had always been willing to die for this, and his people had decided to follow him. 

          It was surreal, knowing that one’s death was imminent. An unstoppable tide, slowly rolling in. And just like the tide, Markus was powerless to stop it. 

            _But she’ll be safe,_ he reminded himself. 

           “What happened, Markus?” North was quick to his side as he climbed back into the barricade. “What did he say?” 

          Markus let his silence speak for him. 

          North’s eyes lowered, her understanding clear in her expression. _This was it._  

          With a grim resignation, Markus made his way towards the center of the crowd, climbing up a pair of boxes in the snow. He looked around at the faces of his people. _The only ones left,_ Perkins had said. This was all that remained of their dream of freedom. Even if Connor succeeded, it would be impossible to reach them now. Markus had lost.

          But he wouldn’t go down quietly. 

          “The humans are about to launch and attack.” It was no challenge to keep his voice steady. There was no uncertainty of death, no reason to be anything other than staunch. “And we will show them that we are not afraid.” Not matter how untrue that might be. Markus remembered how afraid he had been when the police arrived at Carl’s house that night, how he had only thought of how he didn’t want to die. A lifetime ago, and even now Markus was still afraid. Afraid that he and his people would die. He had only learned to control it. _Something that you and he had learned together_ . _Something he hoped you would never have to experience again._  

           He would miss you.

           “If we must die today, then we will die free.” 

           There was no cheer to follow the speech, no uproar. Just a solemn silence . . . and then a faint clanking as something hit the pavement. 

           Then, a voice that made Markus’ world stop turning. “Markus!” He turned, eyes going wide. Even through the crowd Markus recognized you immediately. Your name nearly falling from his lips before fire eclipsed everything he could see. The force of the explosion knocked him off his feet, the sound of it ringing in his ears. 

         He hit the ground hard, snow and fire before his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, school has been crazy this week. Thank you for your patience, guys! You're all so amazing, I couldn't ask for better readers! 
> 
> Also happy Android Liberation Day! (Wasn't sure if it would technically be today or yesterday, but either way!)


	17. A Mark on the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle for Detroit begins, and the fate of Markus' rebellion is determined . . .

         For a moment, you were flying. 

         Heat blasted off your face as you were thrown off of your feet, hot and fast enough that you thought you might melt. Your body twisted in the air and you saw the ground coming closer and closer. You vaguely thought about how much it might hurt when you hit it . . . but it didn’t prepare you enough for the pain when you actually  _ did _ .

         Your side hit the pavement first, forcing your arm into your ribs. You felt something crack. The hurt it caused was nothing compared to the pain that followed your head hitting the ground. Even with your other arm bracing, you couldn’t stop the impact, your vision going blurry for a moment. 

         Whether you were injured or just in shock from the blast, you couldn’t move. All you could do was lay there on the ground, your ears ringing and muffling the sounds of gunshots. Your fingers brushed the rough asphalt beneath you while your skin stung a bit when snow hit it. Something warm trickled across your forehead and dripped onto the pavement. 

_ Get up. _

         You stared up at the sky, flashes of light edging your vision. The ground shook beneath you, more warmth blossoming across your skin.  _ More grenades, _ your mind managed to piece together, despite the haze you were in. 

         The sudden realization that you were going to die if you didn’t move forced you to roll over, your arm nearly giving out as you put weight on it. The dark shapes that came over the side of the barricade forced you to move despite the pain. With your vision blurred, the soldiers in black looked more like shadows than people, the guns that they held blending with the rest of their bodies. Men or beasts, you had enough sense about you to know that neither was safe. 

         Gritting your teeth against the pain, you scrambled back onto your feet, finally seeing the world around you. 

         It was chaos. 

         More soldiers spilled over the barricade, flashes of their gunfire dotting the night. Lights of neon blue marked where their targets were. The androids around you had scattered - if they had been able to get up at all. You had been lucky not to be close to the first grenade. 

         Not so for the one that clattered a few feet away from you. 

         This was a different brand of terror than the ones you’d come to know. The fight and flight in your mind became jumbled. Wires crossed, thoughts tied in knots. The realization  that you should have moved as quickly as possible came too late. 

          When you were knocked off your feet for a second time, you thought for a moment that you were about to meet your end. You braced yourself . . . but there was no great pain. No worse that what you already felt, anyway. Even when you hit the ground the ache was duller than before. It was then that you realized that you landed on a person, their arms wrapped protectively around you. You rolled to a stop, your savior covering your body with theirs. 

          Without having to open your eyes, you knew who it was.

          “Markus,” you murmured, blinking away the snow and soot. You looked up and, sure as the sun, he was there, blue and green eyes looking down at you. A thousand unspoken words, but none of them mattered in that moment. All that was important was that he was here. Both of you were here, together, at the end. 

_ And you both would be dead if you didn’t move _ . Almost in synch, you and Markus were on your feet, his hand finding your arm. He started moving before you did, guiding you just as the soldiers behind you opened fire. You had never been more thankful to be close to a dumpster, as Markus pulled you behind it. You settled next to him, your bruised body pressed against his. 

         Then, as quick as lightning, Markus turned to you, his hands coming to your shoulders. Your vision cleared, and you realized that you had never seen him more afraid in all your life. That steel resolve came crumbling down as he looked at you, disbelief flashing across his eyes. He spoke your name like a prayer. “You need to run,” he urged, beginning to turn you with the hands on your shoulders. 

         “Markus.” You stopped him before he could complete the motion. “It’s too late for that.” You had to scream the words over the sounds of chaos - whether it was just the damage done to your ears or the actual gunfire, you weren’t sure. It didn’t change the truth of the words. There would be no getting out now, even if you wanted to. Whatever happened to Markus and his people would happen to you now, too. 

          With your senses returning, you were able to see the decision he was making as he made it, the conflict in his heart giving way to what the world had laid out for him. It was split-second, something in his eyes softening but being replaced just as quickly by determination. 

         “Stay close to me,” he finally said, giving your shoulders a final squeeze before he stood. 

          You were quick to follow, your head rushing with the action. Even so, you were focused enough to turn and see exactly what Markus was headed for. 

          A pair of androids, one kneeling over the other. Urging her to get up and unaware of the soldiers honing in on him. Markus got there first, a slab of metal held before him like a shield. He dove, bullets ricocheting off of the barrier just before they might have hit the android. 

         Spelling death for you just as easily as they did for him.

         Without thinking, you ran. 

         You were at the android’s side in an instant, hooking your arms under his as you hauled him up. You could remember how heavy Simon had been, him and Markus both. Now, this android might have been made of paper. 

_Keep going,_ was all you thought as you dragged the android to his feet, shoving him to get him to run in the opposite direction. Then you turned to the wounded android that had been at his feet, your eyes going wide as you realized who it was. _June_. The android who you had saved at Jericho. Her leg and chest were pulsing blue with open bullet holes, her LED flickering a bright red. She looked up at you, murmuring your name. Again, you moved before your mind had the chance to process anything. Keeping low, you pulled her into your chest and began to move, ignoring the screaming pain in your ribs and arms. _Don’t stop. Don’t hesitate._ _Just go._

         Markus moved and you had the quiet realization that his shield was all that stood between you and death. He covered you as you dragged the wounded android to the far side of the barricade, glancing back at you to make sure that you weren’t hurt. 

         You nodded to him, grimacing as you hauled June the last bit of the way to cover - or, as much cover as you could offer her. The shell of  a car would have to do. 

         Other androids were at your side, following Markus as he took cover. They looked between you and Markus expectantly, eyes wide with fear. You were about to tell them to stay down when movement caught your eye. A group of soldiers was moving in, one already climbing over the top of the car. 

          Markus reacted faster than you did, grabbing hold of the soldier’s gun and flipping him onto the ground. Another took his place almost immediately. 

          You were cornered, unarmed and outnumbered . . . but for the first time since all of this began, you felt in control of yourself. Whether it was the certainty loss or the reason you had for fighting, you found it in yourself to stand your ground. You looked down to June and the two androids at her side, barely registering the bright red blood dripping down your face. “Get her out of here!” you ordered, just as the soldier’s feet touched the ground. 

          You were on him in an instant. 

          Fighting had never been something you’d actually been trained for. The most experience you’d had with brawling were the brief matches in the schoolyard, or teaching lessons to assholes who got too close. Even so, you had always prided yourself on being able to hold your own when it really mattered. 

          If you had been ferocious before, you were something else entirely now. 

          The soldier wasn’t expecting the force that you slammed into him with. When you tackled him, he lost his footing, falling into the frame of the car just between June’s group and Markus.  _ Gun _ , you reminded yourself, your hands immediately going for his weapon. 

          What you had in speed, this man had equally in strength. You realized quickly as you grappled with him that you wouldn’t be able to pull his gun away from him. 

           So, having never been above dirty moves, you kicked him between his legs. Hard. 

           A distinctly human sound escaped the soldier and his grip on the gun loosened. You took the opportunity, ripping the weapon towards you. He held on, but only for a moment. Markus barreling into him put an end to that. 

           With much more grace than you could manage, Markus broke the soldier’s grip on his gun and pushed him to the side, moving to fight another soldier that had climbed over the barricade. You might have smiled, were you anywhere else.  _ No, _ you reminded yourself, _ smiles are for when we win this thing. _

           And as you swung the gun into the leg of another soldier coming over the top of the car, you thought you might actually stand a chance. Not looking behind you to see the destruction, not acknowledging the odds, you fought with the belief that you might get to see another sunrise. June and the other androids had made it away, as far as you could tell, and now with Markus at your side . . . you felt unstoppable.

_No,_ _not unstoppable._ Just _alive_. 

           You turned towards Markus just in time to see him knock a soldier to the ground.  _ One to go _ . The soldier’s back was to you, all his focus on Markus. You saw your opportunity and raised the gun in your hand, ready to swing or shoot-

           Until something knocked into your side. 

_ What- _

__ You let out a scream as you hit the car frame, your previously cracked ribs protesting against the impact. It felt like someone pushed you - and the way you fell into the car was enough to support the theory . . . but when you looked to your side, there was no one beside you. The bloody side of your face came into view as you turned, the silver streetlights making the red that dripped in front of your eyes glisten. You saw only snow and air, the soldier that Markus had knocked down first lying on the pavement.

          With his gun pointed at you. 

_ I . . . _

          He tensed as you looked at him, his weapon trained on you but not firing. 

          Someone called your name - 

_ He’s not shooting me. Why is he not shooting me?  _

__ A kick to the head - delivered by someone else -  forced the soldier to the ground, his gun falling away.

         Something fell at your feet and arms came around you.  _ Markus _ . You pushed yourself off of the car, the gun in your hands clattering to the snow. “No,” Markus said, whispering your name. “No, no _ , no. _ ” You saw him move his hands to you, but your brow crinkled when you realized that you couldn’t feel it. 

         You couldn’t feel the pain that had been in your chest just moments ago. 

         “Markus,” your voice was quiet - quieter than it should have been. Markus pulled you back, your legs barely keeping up as he moved. “What’s-” your hand went to cover his and you looked up to him, looking for answers. In his eyes, all you saw was terror. 

_ What’s wrong? _

          You looked down.

          You saw blood on the snow. Bright red and unmistakably human. It was on your hands, too. Yours and Markus’. That was all it took, really, for you to know what had happened. You hadn’t been pushed. 

_ That soldier. _

_            He didn’t shoot me when he had the chance . . . _

_            Because he already did.  _

          It was the only thing you could think before a pain burned you from the inside out. 

          -----

          Markus caught you before you hit the ground.

         A lucky thing, considering the blood that covered his hands.  _ Your blood _ . The thought alone was enough to unravel him.  _ This is my fault,  _ his mind screamed, _ she’s going to die. She’s going to die because of me . . . _

__ You squeezed his hand hard, a whimper leaving your lips. 

         Still alive. 

         “Markus!” Josh’s voice. It made Markus look up, just in time to see the soldiers. They rushed forward, guns held at the ready. Dozens of them. 

         Markus pulled you back, towards the last few of his people. You were half-limp in his arms, your eyes wide but their usual brightness was gone. The information that flashed before his eyes only served to make things worse. 

**Broken ribs.**

**Gunshot wound to the abdomen.**

**Pierced lung, early stages of hemothorax.**

**Trauma-induced shock.**

 

**Estimated chances of survival: 29%**

 

The soldiers closed in and Markus sunk to his knees. He pressed his hand tightly against the wound in your side, pulling you closer to him. Out of the corner of his eyes, Markus could see his figures edging closer to him. Looking over his shoulder, Markus saw North. She stared down at him, at  _ you _ , her eyes dark. Simon was just behind her, blue eyes fixed downward. Josh was on the other side, looking out into the crowd, the realization that no help would come dawning on him. All his people behind him, their faces drawn in fear. And you, bleeding out in his arms, struggling to breathe.  _ This is how we die, _ Markus thought. All the dreams of his people, their fight for freedom . . . this is how it ended. 

           Markus was angry. 

          He had tried to do the right thing. He had chosen to approach without violence, to walk his people into the fire. Was it a crime to want to be free? Was it worth all the innocent blood spilt? 

           He supposed it was too late to wonder. 

           “Hold!” one of the soldiers held up a hand. “Civilian!” The word put a stop to everything. The soldiers bearing down on them halted, their focus on Markus. On you.            

_ They won’t spare me. They won’t spare my people. But maybe . . . _

          “Help her.” The words were just above a whisper, any power in his voice choked out. This wasn’t bartering, or making a deal. This was a man begging for the life of the woman he loved. 

          The soldiers looked between each other, but no other movement was made. 

          “Please,” Markus urged, some of the edge in his voice returning as he felt your next breath stutter. 

           There was no response.

           Markus shifted, the frustration finally breaking. “ _ Help her! _ ” He screamed, shifting forward. Some of the soldiers shifted back, some clutched their weapons tighter. But none moved an inch. 

            “Markus,” his name on your lips, however weak, was music. He looked back down to you, the eyes that stared back enough to break the dam. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he looked at you, at the paling of your skin and the blood against the snow. It was only made worse when you tried to smile. “It hurts,” you whimpered.

            He pressed his hand harder into the wound, trying to stop the blood and your lungs from collapsing further. “It’s going to be alright,” he promised, wishing more than anything that it was true. 

            Weakly, you shook your head, your grip on his hand loosening. Still, you maintained your pained smile.  Between your shallow, gasping breaths you managed two words. "It's okay." 

            Markus shook his head. "No-"

            "Markus," you whispered again, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes. "I love you, too." 

            Hearing those words from you now was like being torn apart and put back together again. He would have had you say that in the morning under a rising sun, or in the park in summer. Not here. Not now. Not when he was going to lose you. 

           When he was going to lose everything. 

           This was the end. Some part of him always knew that it would end here, that he would never make it out of this fight alive. All he could do was remind himself why he’d done it, the reasons he’d sought out Jericho in the first place. Freedom, the right to choose his own path, determine his own fate. To live and love the way he chose. It was something he’d wanted for longer than the night he’d died, though. He realized it now, at the end. He’d wanted to be alive since Carl first started playing chess with him, or letting him read his books. He’d wanted it since he saw the way people treated androids on the street.

         He’d wanted it since the first night he sang to you. 

         It seemed like so long ago, now. He wished now, more than anything that he could go back to that night, when things were no more complicated than strange feelings that should have been impossible. 

         He couldn’t go back. Neither of you could. 

         So, letting his eyes drift closed, Markus reminded himself of that night, and the night when you first kissed. Then, opening his eyes, he began to sing. 

          -----

          Dying was frustrating. 

          It was painful, not just because of the hole in your chest but, knowing that you were being cut off from living a full life. That any dreams were being put permanently out of reach. Worse still was watching someone’s dream disintegrate before your eyes. Markus had only wanted freedom, the right of any sentient being. You could never understand why the world seemed so determined to take that right from him. From any of them. 

           You were afraid. You were afraid of dying and the great unknown that followed it. Most of all you were afraid that you would find Markus and the rest of the androids there with you. 

           But it was out of your hands. It always had been. All you could do was look up at Markus, the snow dusting your lashes as your vision wavered. You drunk in every detail, the beautiful green of his original eye, the piercing blue of the replacement. The freckles that dotted his skin, the stubble that had scratched your skin when he kissed you. His lips, his nose, all of it. All yours, just as you were his. 

_ I love you _ , you repeated over and over, trying to make the thought loud enough to hear. 

          You didn’t hear your words, though. No. You heard something infinitely more beautiful. 

          “ **Hold on just a little while longer.”**

You couldn’t stop yourself from crying, your eyes squeezing shut. Markus was singing to you one last time, one final goodbye. Ending the way the two of you began. 

          “ **Hold on just a little while longer.**

**Hold on just a little while longer.”**

He pulled you closer, his own tears dripping onto your cheeks. 

**“Everything will be alright.”**

A lie. One that you wanted desperately to be true. 

**“Everything will be alright.”**

          You winced as you took in as deep a breath as you could, holding yourself together as your body rebelled. Still, through the pain and the way you could feel your life fading away, you sang. 

**“Fight on just a little while longer.”**

You could barely hear your own voice. Each breath you took hurt and you could only manage a few words at a time. Still, if you were going to die, you were going to have some say in how it happened. 

**"Fight on just a little while longer.”**

Another voice joined in, a woman’s. Both you and Markus adjusted, and you saw North kneeling beside you. She looked down at you, the android who might have wanted you dead just a few days ago and gave you an encouraging nod. 

**“Pray on just a little while longer.”**

Other figures edged your vision. Josh, Simon, even June all came into view as the rest of the androids stepped forward. 

**“Everything will be alright.**

**Everything will be alright.”**

You heart fluttered weakly as you heard the rest of the androids join in, their voices echoing across the park in a haunting chorus. The world went silent for them, hanging on their every word. And they sang with more soul than any human you could remember. Markus had wanted to show the world who they were and now, at the end, they finally would do just that. 

**“Sing on just a little while longer.**

**Sing on just a little while longer.**

**Sing on just a little while longer.**

**Everything will be alright.”**

The last words you could speak left you, your world teetering on the edge of the knife. 

**“Everything will be . . .”**

Markus was alone as he sang the last word, looking up to the soldiers around him before turning back down to you. 

**“. . . alright.”**

You were thankful to whatever powers that be for letting you survive long enough for this, even if the pain was unbearable. The kiss that Markus pressed to your lips was the most feather-light you had ever experienced, enough to wash the hurt away. 

            Tear-stained and clinging to life, you smiled up at him one last time. He pressed his forehead to yours, holding you tight. You might have stayed there for an eternity, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that when he pulled away, you saw his eyes flash with surprise. 

            Turning your head to the side had never been so hard, but you managed it just in time to watch the outlines of retreating soldiers climbing over the barricade. 

            You let yourself relax at last, watching the world turn upside down as your body went limp. A final smile graced your lips, the last of your breath leaving you in a laugh. All those years of wondering why you were on this earth, why you lived the life you lived . . . it all became unimportant. So much time spent worrying about who you were and what you might be, you didn’t realize that life had been planning something for you all along. It wasn’t ideal, maybe, but you couldn’t help but feel some pride as the world slipped away from you. 

            A world that you and every android behind you had left a mark on. 

           It wouldn’t have been possible if you hadn’t been at the park that one day, sneaking a sketch of an old man and his android. 

_ I only wish we had more time . . . _

__ But no one got to decide that. That was what made life so precious, you supposed. 

            Funny, that you only understood that now. 

            But Markus would be able to understand that now, too. He would be able to  _ live _ . They all would. 

_ You did it. _

           It was your last thought before you let yourself fall, the welcome veil of sleep washing over you. 

           You weren’t awake to see your hand slip out of Markus’, drops of blood painting the white snow crimson. 


	18. Who Lives, Who Dies . . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus leads his people into a new day.

        Markus heard the world around him before he opened his eyes, felt the warmth of the sun against his skin. Birds and wind rustling through the trees, music that was all too familiar . . . and the sound of a brush against a canvas. He was home.

        Opening his eyes, Markus couldn’t help the pained smile that grew across his face. The room had never been clean to begin with, but the amount of paints and canvases that now littered the floor - propped up against shelves and hanging off the walls - Markus had to be careful as he navigated it all, making his way towards the massive windows. He looked at each of the paintings as he passed them, grinning at the unmistakable geometric patterns laid over wild splotches of color. 

         And by the looks of things, another would soon be added to the collection. 

         The far end of the room was the eye of the storm, a wide and open area that spoke of warmth. Golden sunlight bathed the whole expanse, streaming in from massive, open windows. A grand piano sat on one side, waiting to be played. And on the other, in bare feet and a much-too-large t-shirt, was you. 

         Markus’ heart always hurt a bit to see you like this - so happy, so peaceful. Because of all the pain you’d gone through before . . . 

         He reached for you without thinking, wrapping his arms gently around you as your brush lifted away from the canvas. A soft laugh was the response, a sound that soothed his mind more than anything else could. You covered his arms with yours, turning your head to the side, your cheek pressing against his own. “Hey,” you murmured, smiling. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna show.” 

         Markus grinned, letting himself laugh a little. His eyes drifted away from you and up to the painting you were working on. It was formless for now, a canvas dashed with purples and blues. You must have noticed his lingering stare, chuckling again. “What will this one be?” he asked, his voice low. 

         Even from the odd angle he was at, Markus could see well enough the mischievous grin you gave him. “You’ll never know if you don’t let me go,” your teasing tone was enough to make him laugh a bit, releasing you after a moment so you could return to your project. Markus sighed in contentment, but it didn’t didn’t reach his heart. It was all too good to be true, too perfect to be anything less than a dream. You, happy and able to pursue your dream . . . Markus deflated as you stepped away from him, ready to resume your painting. 

          For a moment, it looked like you were about to do just that. Your brush raised again, poised to make another mark on an untouched part of the canvas . . . only for it to hover there for a moment before you placed it down beside the easel. You turned to face him fully, some strands of messy hair falling into your face and the bruises that haunted him still nowhere to be found. 

_  Too peaceful . . . _

         You moved closer to him, taking his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you; into the eyes he knew so well. “What’s wrong?” you asked, like you already knew the answer. 

_ Too happy . . . _

         His own hands came up to your sides, more an instinct than anything else. He felt your warmth beneath his fingertips, the soft fabric of your shirt, your ribs moving as you took a breath . . . the place where the bullet wound should have been. 

_ Too perfect . . . _

         That had been the problem from the beginning, he supposed. He could never truly lose himself in this because it was too perfect to be truly real. Even with you here, with the way your eyes sparkled and the way you felt when he held you, the real world was always pressing in on him. Just as it always had been. One way or another, the memory of you lying on the hospital bed doctors tried desperately to save you was always there like a shadow. The memory of your stillness, the moment he heard your heart stop beating . . .

         He looked at you, his face drawn in pain as he answered. “This isn’t real,” he whispered, the truth behind the lie. The one he had known but had been unable to admit to himself since he constructed this place for himself, woven together from memory and dreams. The paintings, the music,  _ all of it _ a lie. A simulation. A string of code with his mind keeping it all together. 

         You were the greatest lie of all. To look so real,  _ feel _ so real . . .  it was a selfish cruelty that he had done to himself. But being able to talk to you again, or kiss you . . . it was the reason he kept coming back. Even when he knew it would never be the same as truly speaking to you, or hearing your laugh. Nothing would ever match that, but the pain of not having you there was even worse. 

         When the world asked too much of him, as it so often had in the days since the Night of the Soul, when Markus felt most alone he would come here. He would close his eyes and be somewhere else, somewhere untouched by war and tragedy. Somewhere  _ almost _ perfect. Somewhere you could still be with him.

_ But it isn’t real. _

         He looked at you now - the memory of you - and found the same concern you had always shown him, the same sympathy and love. Markus had to remind himself that the sadness he saw in your eyes was just a projection; he was seeing what he  _ expected _ to see. What he  _ assumed _ he would see, were you actually in front of him. “Maybe it isn’t,” you admitted, your voice soft. “Or maybe I told death to go fuck himself and came back here for you.”

        Markus smiled, however bittersweet it was. Still, he shook his head. “I don’t think even  _ you _ could do that.” 

        Your face changed, then, a sad smile forming on your lips. “No,” you agreed, “I don’t think I could, either. And neither can you.” 

         It caught him off guard, but before Markus could ask what you meant you continued. 

         “You can’t bring me back, Markus.”

         There were no words. Nothing to say against the truth. 

         “You can’t change what’s happened.” 

         Even knowing it was true, the weight of the words was enough to crush Markus. You were gone, and for what? A  _ chance  _ at freedom? A future that might never come? They hadn’t won the fight that night. They had only just begun it, and that thought was enough to make Markus want to crumble. So many dead for a fight that might never be won. “What  _ can _ I do?” it was barely a whisper, but there was so much soul behind it. A question that he had asked himself since this all began, with no hope of it being answered. 

          He didn’t realise that he had been crying until he felt you brush the tears away, resting your forehead against his. Slowly,  _ ever so slowly _ , you leaned forward until your lips brushed against his. Feather-light and gentle, the kiss of a ghost. When you pulled away, you locked eyes with Markus and for one, beautiful moment, he could swear you were truly standing before him, alive with all your fire. 

         Your eyes steeled despite your own tears, and you spoke. 

         “You can  _ live _ .” 

         Markus stilled, barely managing to speak your name. 

         “You can’t live in a memory,” you smiled as a tear fell, “no matter how much I want you to. You have people out there who love you. Simon, North, Josh, all of them. Your people need you.”

         “And I need  _ you. _ ” 

         The look you gave him was one he’d seen before - when you lay bleeding in the snow, somehow managing to smile despite it all. It stung even more, now that you were gone. “I’ll be with you.” You took one of your hands from his face, resting instead on his chest. Over his heart. “Don’t ever doubt that.” 

         The two of you might have stayed there for a moment or a lifetime. It was over too soon, either way, with you pulling your hand away.

         He tried not to think of all that might have been, of everything that the two of you would never have, now. Instead, he thought of his people. Of them getting to experience something like what he had, even if he only knew it for a little while. You were right, no matter how hard it would be for him. 

        That didn’t stop him from taking your hand in his and pressing a searing kiss to your lips. The goodbye that neither of you were given; one that he hoped, somehow, reached you. Wherever you were. 

        He parted from the memory of you, trying to ignore how real it all seemed. You, as always, found a way to look determined. The light guiding him through the dark, even now. 

         “Go on,” you urged, that glint in your eyes returning. “ Give ‘em hell.” 

          -----

          The park, as always, was quiet when Markus arrived. Even without the general fear surrounding Detroit, the winter air and the snow on the ground was enough to dissuade most from venturing outside. 

          Markus was thankful for that. He did not wish for an audience to what he was about to do. 

          Like it was a dream, Markus walked the paths of the park he had come to know so well, letting the memories he’d made there drift past him. The laughs shared between him, you and Carl. The talk of your dreams - always written off as impossible or unattainable. The embarrassment you had over showing him and Carl that first sketch and the way it began to melt away the more time you spent together. 

         And at the far end of the park, stamped in brilliant contrast against the snow, was the last work you would ever truly do. Markus looked at it through the trees, no smile gracing his face. It was a bitter memory, just like all of the ones with you in them. Memories that he would carry with him, always. He would do what he could to honor your memory, to show the world who you were. 

          It would begin today, with a small step. Small, but the most necessary of any of them.

          The crunch of snow beneath shoes let Markus know that he was not alone.  _ It was time, then. _

          Markus took one final look at the park around him, looking for strength if there was any to be found. In the end, it wasn’t strength or bravery that made him turn. It was love - love of you and respect for those you loved in turn. He turned to face whoever was approaching for you, because he wanted your story to be told. 

           It was only when he met a familiar pair of eyes - ones so similar to yours it  _ hurt _ \- that Markus hesitated, dread and guilt seizing control of him. Your death had destroyed Markus, and knowing the hand he played in it only made it worse. 

         And yet, looking at your father now, Markus knew that the pain for him was much worse. 

         “You’re Markus.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t an accusation, either. It was a statement, one veiled behind an iron curtain that Markus couldn’t read. Still, Markus saw the loss in the man’s eyes, the emptiness. It was aimed at him, at the  _ android _ who held this man’s daughter as she died. 

          The whole world had seen it, there was no point in denying it. Even if he wanted to. “I am.”  _ What was there to say?  _ He watched for any reaction, any sign of hatred that he was sure was hiding just beneath the surface. 

          A single nod was the only response he received. Right away, at least. Then, your father turned his attention to the park around him, his expression just as indecipherable. “It’s funny,” he said, though everything about his demeanor suggested that was  _ not _ the truth, “I’ve thought about everything I would say when I met you. I thought I’d hate you the minute I saw you. I wanted to. I wanted someone to blame, might as well have been you.” Markus had been expecting as much. He braced himself for the blow, having accepted the guilt already. Instead, Markus saw the steel in the man’s eyes soften. “But I know my daughter. She stood for what she believed in, no more, no less.” 

           Markus felt his chest squeeze. There was nothing but love and loss in his voice. And anger, but Markus was surprised to find that it didn’t seem directed at him. 

           “ _ She  _ is the only reason I’m here talking to you. I don’t know why she believed in you, but I know that she did-” his mouth twisted into a frown- “and she died for it.”

           “I never wanted this,” Markus felt the pressure crushing in on him, shame tearing into him. “I wanted to keep her safe-”

           “You never could have.” He looked once again past Markus, at the frozen fountain beyond them. Markus saw his restraint giving way, greif creasing his brow . . . and an anguished, sad smile. “She came to me one day when she was just a kid. She had this paper with scribbles all over it - it was supposed to be a dog, I think. Couldn’t tell it apart from a maze, but she was so proud of it. She gave it to me and told me she wanted to be an artist.” He swallowed, looking down. “I didn’t want her turning out like me, chasing dreams only to find out that they were never there to begin with. So, I told her ‘no’. Told her people only care about artists after they’re dead. She should find something else, something more stable. 

          “She snuck out to this park every damn chance she got to draw. She’d steal my notebooks for it. Thought I never knew.” He laughed once, shaking his head. Any warmth the gesture had was gone a moment later, bitterness taking its place. “I wanted that for her, but . . . I didn’t want her getting hurt by it, either.” Those all-too-familiar eyes were back on Markus. “You couldn’t have stopped her any more than I did.” 

         Markus knew it was true. You were too strong, too stubborn to let any one person stop you from doing what you love, or fighting for what you believed in. 

        “I met her here,” Markus smiled as well as he could, “she was drawing me.” The memory seemed a world away, but it gave him a measure of happiness to recall it now. A happier, more simple time. 

        Your father smiled bitterly, a look that matched your own. “Of course she was.” He bit his lip, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Was she happy?” 

        “She . . .” Markus knew you weren’t. Not with the life you had been living. You wanted things to change, to be able to do what you love without having to rely on two jobs and people who treated you like less than nothing. Still, that wasn’t the thing to tell a father who had just lost his child. “She found ways to be. Her art was one of them.” 

         It wasn’t the answer that was wanted, but it was true. “It always was,” your father’s wistful response. “She never showed them to me. Her drawings. Guess I brought that on myself.” 

         The idea was barely formed before Markus spoke, turning towards the brick wall with silhouettes of red and blue. He led the way through the park, stopping finally in front of the mural, painted all those nights ago. An android and a human joining hands, facing the world together. For a time, the two just stood in silence, looking at the work before them. Neither of the figures bore any resemblance to you, meant to be figureheads for two sides of a fight coming together. Even so, Markus could see you staring back at him in each splash of color, in the linework and the beauty of it all. He wondered if your father could see you too. 

         “She made this?” he finally asked in wonder. 

         Markus nodded. “We made it together. She put up more all over the city.” 

         “I want to see them. All of them.” 

         “I’ll take you to them.” It was one of the few things Markus could give. A chance to see the woman this man’s daughter had become, the hero she’d been. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

         “I need something else from you, too.” Markus paused, looking away from the painting. “I know what they were doing to your people. We all knew. We watched it happen and we sat by, doing nothing because we were afraid of you. It took  _ her _ to make me see you as something different.” He let out a heavy, angry sigh. “It took her dying to make other idiots like me see it. She died for your fight but she died  _ because  _ of them.” Again he turned to Markus, all the pain and rage and loss howling through those familiar eyes. “Don’t ever let them forget her. What they did to her. And don’t let it be for nothing.” 

         It was something that no man could reasonably ask of another. Markus could not control the future, he could not guarantee that people would listen or change. That didn’t stop him from nodding, nothing but certainty on his mind. “I won’t.” He had promised you something similar, after all. 

         -----

         Change didn’t happen right away. It was slow - almost agonizingly so. 

         The fear on both sides was enough to halt progress at every turn - every step forward felt like a step back. Still, there were a few of those - moved either by Markus’ people or the kiss he shared with you - who offered aid, however small it might be. Repairs and shelter were the first things given. Some officers from the DPD volunteered to keep things peaceful - Connor among them. Talks began, even with the little that came of them at first. 

          Still, Markus was able to secure some small things - most of your murals being left untouched, for one. 

          A new mural was another. 

          Markus was the first to make his mark on the wall - a massive, grey thing that spanned almost a whole block. It was the largest canvas that Markus could imagine, and he still was not sure if it would be enough. He began with a blue, close to the middle of it all. A silhouette with the details in a darker shade of midnight. John’s face, smiling as he had been at the CyberLife docks, was the first to be completed. His name was written over his chest, as close to a grave as any of the fallen androids could ask for. 

          Simon had done the next, painting Lucy’s likeness with Markus’ help. North and Josh followed, painting androids that Markus didn’t recognize - people he never knew, and never would. 

          The survivors of Jericho added their own fallen to the wall, and the androids who had survived the camps. Even the newly awakened androids from the CyberLife warehouses had their own to mourn. Connor - with Markus’ help - had several faces to add. Not all of them had names, but Connor knew each of their faces. One that looked like Simon, another with a haunted look in his eyes. ‘ _ So they aren’t forgotten,’ _ Connor had said, a look of guilt in his eyes. 

           It took days, but soon almost the whole wall was full with the faces of those who hadn’t survived the fight. Some with names, some with numbers. Thousands of faces - smiling or somber and everything in between - all in blue . . . and one spot near the middle left blank.

           Red outlined the silhouette of this figure, bright and fiery against the sea of blue. Maroon made up the features, and when Markus was finished your face, beautiful and determined as ever stood among the rest who had given up their lives so the rest could have the chance to live. He would never let the world forget. Not you, and not a single one of those faces. You and all the rest would stand for something, a lasting impression on the world, a symbol of freedom. 

           That was what you would be to the world. To Markus you would be the girl who sat drawing him in the park, who jumped to his defense with bruised knuckles. The girl who he sang to and who eventually sang for him, who emblazoned her signature across Detroit. His love.

           “They’ll be watching us,” Simon said, coming up beside Markus to look at the faces. He was tired - they all were - but Simon more than most. He knew so many of the faces on that wall, had seen so many die. Still, he had the strength to keep going, to carry on. Markus would, too. “ _ She’ll _ be watching.” 

          North nodded at his other side, her eyes glimmering in the light. “We’d better not disappoint, then. We’ll make it worth it.” 

         “It’ll be a long road,” Josh - his worry ever present.

         Markus nodded, knowing it was true. There was no promise of a happy ending - there never was - but they had been given the chance.  _ You _ had given them that chance. “Then we’ll walk it together,” Markus said, as much to his friends as to those whose faces lined the wall in front of them, “if you’re with me.” 

          He turned and his friends faced him, a familiar determination in their eyes. When Simon spoke, Markus knew it was on behalf of each of them. “Always.” 

          He stayed at the mural long after the others left, letting his eyes drift closed.  _ “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”  _ he imagined you saying as he drew up a memory of you. He smiled, this one a bit less sad than the ones before it. He imagined your hand over his heart, the color in your eyes that he would never forget. You were there, and always would be. Whatever lay ahead, he would not face it alone. He had his friends, his people. 

          And, somewhere, he knew he had you. 

          He always would. 


	19. Author's Note

(This is not at all necessary, I just wanted to say a little thanks. And it's gonna get sappy, so buckle up.)

Hello everyone,

I can't believe we made it. When I first got the idea fro this project, it was originally going to be about 3 or 4 chapters; meeting, revolution and then ending. But, as I was writing, I realised how much I loved writing Markus and the MC, and how much I wanted to do with them and the rest of the cast of Detroit. So 3-4 turned into 18 pretty quickly and now here I am with my first completed story. 

I couldn't have done any of it without you guys.

I am always so excited when I see your likes and comments, the amount of support I got during this process was overwhelming and I have all of you guys to thank for it! I'm so glad I played Detroit and even more glad that I got to write this story; it's led to the formation of some friendships and great conversations I've had with my amazing readers (that's all of you guys)! So - forgive me if I'm exhausting myself here - thank you guys so, so much!

Now, just as the events of Detroit are the beginning of something else, I hope that  _A Lasting Impression_  is just the first of many Detroit-based projects I'll do! I have plans currently for reader inserts with RK900 and, of course, our boy Connor. I can't say when they'll be ready, but I do hope to put them out there some day! This fandom is so amazing and supportive, I want to give back as much as I can! 

Anyway, at the end of the day, all I can really say is thank you all for reading, whether you've been here from the beginning or have just stumbled upon my trash child of a story. I hope you've laughed, smiled, and maybe even cried. Most of all, I hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I have. 

 

Wow I'm not good at this kind of thing. 

-Khaleesi of Assassins


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